Hunter
by WhereTheWindTakesMe
Summary: A neglected child disappears without warning. Nine years later, a cold and clever boy is chosen to guard a beautiful girl. Will contain strong violence and advanced runic magic explanations.
1. Chapter 1 - The Boy

**Chapter One – The Boy**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Harry Potter Franchise or any characters or magics mentioned in the books or films.**

**Story Inspired by The Crimson Lord's 'Deprived'**

Joseph Malgard was afraid.

The man hid in a bunker in his house, far underground, hidden beneath a host of defences, including a disillusionment charm, two false passage ways, a host of traps, and even a fidelus charm.

Despite all this, he was incredibly scared, having heard from a few of his associates that he was being targeted.

Normally that wouldn't scare him.

He was a paranoid man, even before the news that his life was being targeted. He'd made sure that he'd gotten the very best of goblin wards, multi-layered with plenty of fatal traps that would make anyone think twice before getting within two miles of his manor.

But the person chasing him wasn't anyone.

The most frustrating thing, in his opinion, was the total _lack _of information about the assassin. All that he knew was that he was a male and young, stories ranged from a recent magical graduate to an incredulous age of twelve, but all agreed that he was far too young to be introduced into the line of work he had adopted.

There was another thing that people agreed about.

The assassin, despite being so young, had seemed to have worked for four years, and the most fascinating this was, despite being young and being offered the most dangerous pieces of work, defending heads of state, hunting down serial killers, getting rid of the scum of the earth, he'd never failed. This flawless tracking down and killing of every target he'd been assigned had given him an intimidating call name.

Hunter.

This was what scared Joseph the most, the fact that this man had never failed in accomplishing his task, and that Joseph was just the prey in an inescapable situation.

He may as well have been signed up for execution. He sighed, holding his head in his hands, wand on the beautifully crafted table beside him, slightly to his right, just in reach.

He was seated on a high-backed chair in a bland room with only one entrance, and no windows. Werelights gave the room an ambience he would normally class as calm and serene, but in his current state he swore they were too dim, a shade of light that gave him chills. It reminded him of death, as it was the colour he'd seen his victims' eyes dim down to when they faded from this reality.

His desk faced the wall, one of the only pieces of decoration in an otherwise emotionless room. The dark grey stone walls were three metres thick, having been hewn out of this piece of solid, unblemished hard rock. There were no breaks in the walls. The setup of the manor and the traps made it impossible that anyone would get in, nevermind reach the deeps of the veritable fortress.

Yet impossible hadn't stopped Hunter before, and he doubted it would stop him now.

He just hoped he could do some damage before going down himself.

He paled as he felt a large amount of energy being transferred.

The wards- no... there was no way in which Hunter could've done this.

He'd literally rewritten the wards.

Joseph paled as he realised the implications. The anti-portkey, anti-apparation, and a host of other defenses, lethal and non-lethal, had turned against him.

Hunter could kill him with a command of the wards, and there was nothing he could do about it. He could no longer apparate away either, or use one of the four portkeys he kept on his person, only two of which were legal.

Before he'd been afraid to apparate away because Hunter had seemingly not only been able to follow magic flow, thus telling him where his prey had gone, but had also seemed to know any are better than the prey, and appeared to predict his targets' movement and killed them not long after they'd assumed their escape.

Furthermore, the wards has been the best that money could buy: triple layered, merged with a fidelus, and trapped to be almost as deadly as gringotts. It would've taken an eight man team of some of the best ward-breakers alive three days to dismantle the wards, nevermind turn them against their owner after several years of flawless work. Despite all their expertise, he would have at least felt a hint of their work, and that would have alerted him to their presence.

It had taken Hunter eight hours alone.

_Eight hours._

A normal working day had been the length of time for the young man to rewrite not one, but _three _layers of wards, in absolute secrecy, without any noticed outside assistance.

A more difficult task, with less resources, less manpower, more stealth, and seemingly less experience, completed in a _fraction _of the time it would have taken some of the best.

Hunter was simply a genius, Joseph remarked.

He wondered why on earth, after having seen the man's intelligence, that he'd resorted to being the assassin, the hitman, the bodyguard.

While pondering this, a razor-sharp sword slipped through his second and third vertebrae. He lost control of his muscles as he fell to the floor unable to breathe due to the damage to his windpipe. If he wasn't finished off soon, the lack of oxygen reaching his lungs would slowly end his life. Either way, he was pretty sure he was going into shock.

A had grabbed his shoulder, pulling him to the floor, and facing the ceiling, paralysed, he saw his killer.

The man – no, boy, stared at him with a mechanical stillness that scared him far more than any of the thousands of intimidation tactics he'd been subjected to. The eyes were cold and hard, without a speck of emotion. There was neither love nor hate in those emerald orbs, only a will to finish his business and move on, as if killing Joseph was something he'd do every day and not even blink at the fact that he'd ended a man's life.

The boy had dark hair, so black it seemed artificial, perfectly coiffed in a way that would make most men jealous. His skin was smooth, lightly tanned and unblemished, bearing no spots and no red tinge around the cheeks that was typical of normal humans. His muscles – despite being so young – could be seen through the thin black clothes that hugged his body. He wore no robes, unusual for a wizard, only a dark shirt, jacket and trousers, each tailored to be neither too tight nor to loose.

The boy's slightly calloused hands, Joseph finally noticed, were attached to the sword that had dealt him his final blow. In his shock, it took him a while to piece the facts together. This _boy, _fifteen years old at most, was the world renown assassin named Hunter. Joseph would have laughed if his windpipe hadn't been so viciously maimed. It was obvious now why so many people had underestimated him. Obvious why Hunter was so good. Obvious how he had killed so many.

Hunter pulled his sword away, and in midswing it turned into a short metal rod. He then began looking around the room, searching for any traps or alarms that may have been erected. Joseph could only watch as the most frightening person he'd ever met easily found his two secret compartments and disarmed the traps around them without the slightest bit of trouble. It was almost intoxicating watching him work so methodically and effectively.

Hunter turned towards him, pocketing the wand that still sat on the expensive table that his victim had previously sat at – He hadn't been able to get a shot off before Hunter attacked him. Joseph was left unable to speak, unable to move, unable to do anyhting except watch as Hunter pointed the metal rod towards him, staring in his eyes, and uttered one word.

"_Legimens"_

It was the last thing he'd expected, but it made sense, when Hunter smashed through his carefully erected mind barriers, he stole everything useful. Locations of safehouses and treasures were ripped through his memories, the political motives of everyone important he knew soon joined them, and spells, potions, and countless other things followed those, until Joseph Malgard was little more than a blubbering wreck, devoid of any logical thought. By the time this had happened though, he was only seconds away from bleeding to death, and he did so without the slightest thought.

Hunter turned to search the Manor, followed by a few choice locations. He had to put this newly found logic to use. But first he reasoned, pointing a high-powered _scourgify _at the corpse that had once been Joseph Malgard, he had some cleaning up to do.

He disappeared, leaving the room without the slightest indication that a man had been brutally murdered there only minutes before.

* * *

It was possibly the safest place on the planet at the time. For all of the British public's claims, Hogwarts' wards couldn't match this by a long shot. It was modest – that did not mean that it was small in any regard, for there were many rooms and they were all filled with an innumerable amount of varied items from magical weaponry to heavy ancient tomes. No, the modesty of this place was the lack of visible decorum that would be typical of someone of equivalent wealth and stature.

It did not scream "_We have money!" _like the manors of most old houses such as the Blacks, Malfoys, Potters, or even the smaller merchant houses' homes like the Greengrasses. To the untrained eye, it was simply a large, unfurnished manor stacked high with junk. To those who knew what they were looking for however, they could see the sheer amount of gold that the items inside were worth. Books that could be of equal value to a small house were clumped together with artefacts with prices that rivalled small cities.

Deep in this maze of tokens, trinkets and tomes, there was a small room, with walls only a few metres apart, and a simple yet elegant desk in the middle was covered in parchments, papers, pleas, petitions, and a host of other messages that the young man sitting on a stiff high-backed chair was sorting through, either burning them with contempt or placing them aside for a deeper analysis in the future.

One of these items caught his eye, an offer from the French Minister of Magic. _Sebastian Delacour. _Interesting.

He elegantly rose from his seat and wove his way through the piles of items until he reached a room that bore a resemblance to the Hall of Prophecies in the Department of Mysteries, but instead of holding spheres telling of the future, it held memories.

Thousands, if not tens of thousands of vials, all arranged systematically around the room, circling the enormous pensieve in the centre.

With silent footfalls, he found two vials that would give some useful information.

_Delacour Family _and _French Ministry._

Now, he would be able to make a decision.

* * *

Sebastian Delacour barely resisted the urge to shudder as he stared into the cold, hard eyes of his guest, if he could be called that. There was no emotion in those cold, hard orbs, that seemed to have changed from a bright emerald to an icy white shade. There was not a single speck of amusement, confusion, arrogance, or any sort of emotion. For a man who was very good at reading faces and emotions, it was a very displeasing feeling that those eyes gave him. He wet his lips before be began to speak.

"I assume you received my offer?"

The boy nodded.

Sebastian found himself trying to look away from the impassive gaze of his guest, that seemed to drain the warmth from the room, matching his icy demeanour. Sebastian took his guest's silence as an indication to continue.

"I have been the Minister of Magic for only a few months, and I find myself being slandered and ridiculed by the ultra conservatives within the political parties and the country. You probably know that I am married to a half-Veela, and the blood-purists among our government are far from happy with the most important person in the country marrying someone that they consider to be a half-breed, a non-human if you will." Sebastian scowled at this, but cleared his throat and continued. "They will not be happy to see me championing the rights of the Veela, and although they cannot hurt me politically due to my popularity with the common folk, they will spread rumours, and I have become worried about the safety of my family.

The boy did not outwardly react, leaving his face clear of any emotion, but his eyes showed that he was absorbing information at a record pace. The boy nodded again, and Sebastian saw fit to continue.

"I have no doubt, with your contacts, that you have heard about the assassination attempt that cost the lives of four aurors and several of my staff." the Minister paused for a few seconds, remembering the burnt and bloody scene that he had returned to. "Fortunately I had a meeting at the time, and my wife and two daughters were visiting relatives at the time, or I fear my family would be several members smaller than it is today. There are not many blood-purists in our ministry, and yet they are powerful men, with powerful connections and large funds. I cannot garner any proof, but I have no doubt that they attacks were of their design."

"And that is why you wish to hire me." This time Sebastian couldn't resist the shudder that swept over him. The voice was identical to the face, toneless and without any emotion whatsoever.

"Hogwarts is hosting the Triwizard Tournament, which is why I need your services in particular. I have more than enough resources and protection here in France. That protection is limited greatly in England."

"And your daughter will not accept not going?"

A light laugh escaped from the Minister's lips.

"That would work if it were my youngest, but her sister has inherited both her mother's stubbornness and temper, to the point where I am sure that any warnings will go unheeded to a large degree."

The boy nodded to himself, and silence once again settled upon them.

"I have seen your credentials," Sebastian continued, uncomfortable with the silence that his guest seemed to so easily blend in with, "and I am very impressed. How would a wizard your age bring down notorious criminals, many famed for their use of dark arts or other branches of magic?"

"I was stronger."

Sebastian hadn't expected an extensive answer, and he was proven correct by the young man before him.

Sebastian cleared his throat.

"I have always prided myself in that I am a man capable of protecting my family, but these resources that the blood-purists have at their disposal, I am afraid for my daughter's safety outside of my country's borders."

"England has blood-purists of it's own."

"Have you dealt with them before?"

"Yes."

"Then you will understand the violence that they are capable when their bigotry is unleashed."

A nod.

"I want to trust you," Sebastian said, subconsciously wincing, "but I am afraid I cannot with the attacks on my daughter, so you will be paid in full upon your return."

Another nod.

"I will require hazard pay though, for every attempt on her life that I have to prevent." The toneless voice injected.

"That will be sorted upon your return."

"And the public?" The Minister nodded, having thought of this, "What will they think of your choice of bodyguard?"

"Only a few will know your true purpose, and I am willing to be ridiculed if it ensures the safety of my family."

"Good." A gesture of respect.

"I need a condition on your part before I accept" The boy's tone was clipped. Professional.

"The money will-"

The boy raised his hand, and Sebastian found himself not speaking. He was angered by the impudence of his guest, but at the same time, his courage was immense. Here was the Minister of Magic, with the power of the entirety of France, being made equals by a mere boy! Were it anyone else, he would have assumed that they were simply arrogant, but this was not the case. The boy radiated confidence. Enough so that he could demolish any obstacle in his way, but still keep his wits instead of becoming vain like most.

"Money is not the issue. I require a promise."

Sebastian swallowed, unsure.

"A promise for what?"

The boy smiled for the first time, a dark, cruel smile that did not reach is eyes and was far more terrifying than any glare could have been.

"A promise that allows me to use any force necessary in order to protect your daughter."


	2. Chapter 2 - Meeting the Girl

**Chapter Two – Meeting the Family**

******DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Harry Potter Franchise or any characters or magics mentioned in the books or films.**

**********Story Inspired by The Crimson Lord's 'Deprived'**

To say that Fleur Delacour was unhappy was an understatement.

The blonde beauty was storming through the halls of her manor, her Veela aura flaring to a point that made the air around her glow red in fury.

She'd just finished an exhausting argument, if such a word could be used for two furious Veela shouting at each other, over being able to leave France over the school year.

The very idea of staying at home was appalling, especially when the Triwizard Tournament was being held in Hogwarts that very year. Others didn't understand, but Fleur hated being viewed as nothing but looks. She needed to win, to prove that a pretty face was not the only thing that created Fleur Delacour. Strength, charisma, intelligence, bravery: she had them all in spades, but so few looked beyond her face that no-one noticed other than her closest friends.

She wanted to be defined by something other than her individual looks and figure.

She stomped inter her room and slammed the door, taking deep breaths. Her mother insisted that she did not understand, that Fleur was too young, but she did. She knew that her father's election as Minister of Magic in France would put them into high danger from the hordes of blood-purists that thought that her Veela blood from her grandmother was a personal insult to everyone in the country. Fools.

Though the public loved her father, it was easy to see that the purebloods did not, and she knew, despite the lack of evidence, that they had been responsible for the attack on the Delacour manor that she had come home to.

Unfortunately, Fleur was a target for the men that were trying to get to her father. However, Hogwarts was famed to be one of the safest places in the world, with wards that hadn't been broken since the castle was first built, nearing a thousand years ago.

And although the English Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was a laughing stock, he still would keep the Tournament under heavy auror supervision, as any disturbance would be damaging for his political career.

Fleur was sure of all this, and her chance to prove that she wasn't someone to be ogled for good looks was literally slipping through her fingertips.

Just then, she saw her father. Although Sebastian could play the tough man in public, he was easily swayed by his love for her daughter. Fleur felt a little guilty testing those feelings, but she didn't care so much at the moment. He saw her, and like any good father knew from her body language that she was upset about something, so came to talk to her.

"Fleur, what is wrong?" He asked in French.

"Maman is still insisting I stay locked up here." She growled, and he winced at her tone. "I hope you will see that I have to go to the Tournament, Papa."

"I can't win an argument against you," he sighed, and Fleur felt elated, she just had to hope that he would- "I'll talk to Appolline, but she won't be happy with me."

Fleur threw her arms around her father's neck and kissed his cheek, she was ecstatic. She was going to England!

"I have a condition though." Her father interrupted her thoughts.

The grin disappeared.

"A bodyguard?"

Sebastian grimaced.

"Of course not, but a family friend will be joining France for his schooling and the tournament, and I expect you to help him settle in. He is English, but he will easily adapt to the French customs, as he has been here several times before."

Fleur frowned, much of her extended family was not on good terms with them due to the Veela blood, but it sounded realistic enough.

"Come, he's in the manor at the moment, it's best to make his acquaintance now." He took off through the hallways."

Fleur followed, a step behind her father.

* * *

I am waiting in the entrance of the manor when she enters.

As she approaches, I can see the mistrust on her features. Her father didn't strike me as a good liar, and he seemed to show a weakness for his daughter that was higher than average.

I take her hand and kiss the back of it, as is normal for my female clients.

"Good evening," I greet her, my voice with just the right amount of lightness to avoid sounding suspicious. "You must be Fleur."

The coldness on her face lightens slightly at my tone.

"Yes, it iz nice to meet you." Her accent is strong, but in such a way that it sounds attractive.

"Perhaps we could converse in French? It would be easier for the both of us."

"You speak French?" I can hear the doubt in her voice.

She turns to her father for an explanation, and he seems to want to make a good impression. A family man.

"Aries speaks many languages, and is fluent in all of them."

"How many languages does he speak?" she asks in French.

"English, French, German, Chinese, Spanish, and a few others." I fill in, using the same tongue. She seems to be impressed by my fluency.

"You seem to be doing well together, so I will leave you, I must speak to my wife about allowing Fleur to the tournament." He strides past us. "I will see you both at dinner."

I watch him speed down a corridor, shouting for his wife.

My gaze returns to the girl I am charged to protect.

She still doesn't feel safe around me, and I see her calculating expression for a second before it disappears.

"Come, Aries, I will show you to your room."

"Very well, lead on."

After hearing my response, she marches down the hallway, and I follow her path. Two steps behind, and one to the left.

* * *

I can see that she is going for her wands several seconds before she does so.

Her shoulders stiffen slightly, preparing to fight.

Her pace changes, slowing, and favouring one foot more than the other.

Her fingers clench in her wand hand.

I brush my own wand, but decide against it. She is under my protection, after all.

When she does turn, I am not there.

As she spins, I duck around her vision, moving behind her to the picture frame on the table beside her. Her face morphs into confusion when she spies nothing, but she turns again and spies my by the table. Her wand is out, pointed at my neck.

I show no visible changes in my attitude, instead I continue, to examine the picture, offering her only a lazy glance at her that seems to throw her off for a few seconds.

"I know you are not a family friend. My father is a proud man, and has never seen the need to keep secret friends."

She takes a breath.

"My father has been suspicious of everyone since the attack on our mansion, so you cannot be anyone other than someone he explicitly trusts. I, however, do not."

It's nice to know that the person I am protecting is not an utter fool. This will make the job much more bearable. A little slow on the duelling side though, she'll need proper instruction if she'll learn to defend herself.

"So that leaves me with very few choices to make." She continues.

"And what are those choices?" I ask, picking up a picture frame on the table, containing a photograph of a happy young couple.

"Look at me when I speak to you!" she growls. Her anger at my blatant disrespect is coming to the surface.

"I am listening, is that not enough?" I hold out the picture to her, "Your parents, I presume?"

She looks bewildered at the subject change.

"We are speaking of you, not my parents!"

"And why am I being spoken of?" a light smile crosses my features.

"Because I do not trust you." comes the response.

"Interesting, nine and a half inches."

"What are you talking about?" She blinks unresponsively

"Rosewood, with a core of Veela hair, inflexible. It seems similar to your own aura, the hair of a relative?"

She looks at my hands to see a familiar piece of wood bobbing and weaving around my fingers. Rosewood really is a beautiful wood. A further look at her own hands reveals that her wands is no longer in her own clutches.

I offer her the wand, point aiming at myself.

"Would that be something trustworthy? You would've been helpless without your wand."

"I presume any normal means would not work with you, mister Aries." She is angry. She has been for most of this conversation, though she's kept it in well.

I realise what she's going to do only half a second before she does so, and her Veela allure hits me in full force. Her long blonde hair has warped, becoming lustrous and gleaming, shining although we're still inside. Her eyes sparkle, and I feel a finger brush my cheek, sending shivers down my spine.

"You will tell me why you're here." She has switched to English, and her voice works wonders when the heavy accent is mixed in.

"To go to dinner." I smile, and begin waling to the dining room.

She's stunned.

"Are you coming or not?" I ask, with just the right amount of cheek in my voice.

* * *

A tiny finger, shaking, points at her.

"Why?" comes the tear stained voice. "Why did you leave me?"

"Harry! Harry! Wait! I love you!" she sobs not wanting him to leave.

"No you don't." The voice has a soul-crushing sense of certainty that makes her want to roll up and forget everything.

"Why?" The quiet voice returns.

"Come back! Harry!" she's collapsed wishing more than anything for her to return.

"Why him?"

"Harry I-"

"Why not me?"

"I can explain!" She shrieks, heaving with sobs. "Just come back Harry. I love you."

But he doesn't come back. Without a word, he disappears again, like he did nine years ago.

Lily Potter sat up from her nightmare. The same one. The one she'd had for years on end.

He'd be fifteen. She buried her head in her hands, glad that her husband wasn't here to see her. The guilt was back, powerful, flooding, crashing against her. It was always worst before school, when she was out to buy things for her children, or prepare for lessons that he'd never go to.

She did remember him. His wild black hair that, like his father's, refused to be anything but messy. The silent way he'd explore the world around him. The sad smile that would cross his little face when she forgot about him.

She really needed something. She hadn't drank for two years, but she needed to wash away the guilt that pounded at her thoughts.

She went downstairs to fetch a forgotten bottle of firewhiskey that she'd bought after he disappeared.


	3. Chapter 3 - The Family

**Chapter Three – The Family**

******DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Harry Potter Franchise or any characters or magics mentioned in the books or films.**

**********Story Inspired by The Crimson Lord's 'Deprived'**

A young boy growled in pain as he lifted the knife once again, cutting runes into his chest.

He was nine at most, unkempt and dirty.

Although he was currently taking a knife to himself, the boy's hands did not shake. He did not rush the ritual, taking his time to make smooth lines in his skin.

The rune itself was not too complicated. It was based around the number six, of the salamander, which was especially effective when used in protection wards. This was an example of this. By combining the rune _Eihwaz _with that of _Sowilo _at an angle around ninety degrees parallel on either side, repeated in a hexagonal form, and connected by several circles to reduce wasted magic_. _It was usually one of the first pieces of blood magic that anyone interested in the subject would do due to the fact that it offered basic protection against bloodmagics gone wrong. It was composed of a defensive rune and a personal rune that was largely unique. The person in question could find with a few diagnostic spells.

_Eihwaz _was a rune commonly associated with death, defence, and longevity. It represents the vertical axes of the human soul, used almost solely in self-based runic functions due to it's refusal to be anything but individual. Curiously, searching for _Eihwaz _in a runic dictionary would result in some references to yew wood, a wood that was good for defence and death-based magic when used in wands.

_Sowilo, _on the other hand, was a very rare and personal rune. Representing guidance, power, and success, it was not a commonly found rune, and one that did not work well with many pieces of warding at all, blood-magic or not. It was not a lucky rune, symbolising loss of love in divination. It was also the rune of the sun.

The position of these runes defined their use, and currently they were positioned to be of constant use and in conjunction of each other. A single mistake would cause his magical core to be altered, making his magics turn upon themselves with the force of a large bomb and creating a magical shockwave that would damage any wards unprotected against this type of magic. It was an effective method of taking down several wards at once, though it required the death of a magical being.

It had been three hours, and he hadn't let go of the knife or allow it's carving to be anything other than perfect. He'd just completed the sixth and final recurring pattern, and was starting on the outermost of the three rings needed to bind the runes. The array was centred around the heart. He could not afford to make any more mistakes.

* * *

Dinner was an enjoyable affair.

The Delacours obviously appreciated good food, as is one of the many typical French stereotypes. Huge platters of expensive dishes lined the table, with a good selection of soups to accompany most of the heavier foods.

The youngest Delacour was the polar opposite of her sister. Where Fleur was restrained and easily showed when she was angered, Gabrielle was excitable and shy when the attention turned to her.

The conversation was, for the most part, light and witty, and Sebastian's charismatic way of moving the conversation easily showed why he was the Minister of Magic in that country.

Aries spoke with Gabrielle for the majority of the conversation and, Sebastian noted, refrained from really speaking his mind about any politics. Clever.

His youngest daughter seemed quite smitten with the boy, who seemed like a completely different person when his cold exterior was replaced by a smiling, charming young man with perfect manners and a silver tongue.

Sebastian could see that his guest's smiles did not reach his eyes. He saw, although his laugh sounded perfectly genuine, that his eyes remained cold, and that he always brushed his ring-bearing hand over any food or drink before he ate any. The ring probably had runes that would activate when close to any ingredient that was used in potions and not cooking. He was paranoid, but hid it so well that it would take a very long time for anyone else to notice.

When the food was finished, and the conversations trailed off, Aries stood to leave.

"Could you please thank the house elves for me?" He asked in French, "The food was exquisite."

"That will be no problem." Appolline smiled at the charming young gentleman across the table.

He left the room, thanking them for their company, and kissing the back of the youngest Delacour's hand. She blushed, but Sebastian could see the grin on her features. The boy was quite the charmer, and with his long blonde hair that was messy, but in a way that made it look intentional. Stylish.

He excused himself to speak with his young guest.

* * *

Albus Percivel Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Defeater of Gellert Grindelwald, holder of the Order of Merlin, First Class, for Grand Sorcery, and Champion ten-pin bowler, held his held in his hands, after having to console a grieving Lily Potter.

She'd been an emotional mess for the last few years, and the grief mixed with self-hate for forgetting her other son had been terrible for her health, and she and her husband had immersed herself in their respective fields of work.

Lily had spent two years trying to create a charm that would find her son, but his magical aura had disappeared, almost as if it knew it was being tracked. After her failure, she'd taken the Muggle Studies position in Hogwarts, as well as being a private tutor for the advanced OWL and NEWT students. It was no secret that she'd gotten the best charms results for the last fifty years, and the students and teachers were glad for her help.

Albus knew it was party his fault, after all, he'd been the one to return to the house and find the boy, proclaiming him as the saviour. From then on, he'd advised the Potters that their younger twin would need all the help he could get, as he didn't believe that Voldemort was truly gone.

They'd taken his advice a little overboard, showering the youngest with gifts, and ignoring the fact that their other son had mastered third year theory by the time he was five years old. Albus shook his head, the twins had been completely different. Daniel had always been fire. His bright red hair, loud personality, and friendly manner had made him the sociable one of the two. On the other hand, Harry had been Ice. He was quiet, showed little emotion in his unnaturally bright green eyes, and behind his dark black hair lay the mind of a genius. Truth to be told, his quiet demeanour was probably due to the fact that no-one really paid attention to him, other than the occasional childhood friend.

Of course, the press had had a field day when they realised the heir of one of the richest families in Britain had run away at only six years of age. The Potters had been shunned from society for a very long time, especially due to the fact that the papers had kept at it for almost two months.

They'd lost many friends from that. Most had reconciled with them when they acknowledged their mistakes and made up. Other's hadn't. Most notable had been Remus Lupin, a childhood friend of both the Potters, who'd taken to teaching the boy himself when he disappeared to read. Remus had always had a soft spot for the quieter of the twins, and after almost a decade he still hadn't forgotten or forgiven. The Longbottoms were on rocky relations with the Potters, as they could only have a single child, Neville, due to Alice being hit by a dark curse that prevented her from having other children. They loved their boy like the world, and couldn't understand for the life of them why someone would possibly forget a child.

Albus sighed, popping a lemon drop into his mouth. He wondered how the boy was, if he was still alive.

* * *

"How long have you done this for?" Came the Minister's question.

"Done what?"

"Your... occupation."

"A little over four years." The boy smiled at him, but he knew it was false. "I'm planning on retiring after this actually."

"At fifteen? Sixteen?"

The boy shrugged, and began looking through the shelves of the old library.

"I no longer need money, and the rush of the hunt has faded from what was once a terribly exciting line of work."

"Where will you go?" The minister was genuinely curious, a boy like Aries would not settle for anything but the best.

"I plan on getting attaining several masteries, after receiving some more... advanced education."

Sebastian was no fool, he knew that 'advanced' was probably another means of saying 'illegal'.

"I suspect she knows," Sebastian changed the topic, his voice glum.

They boy, Aries, gave him a look he couldn't quite work out.

"How bad was I?" Sebastian asked, staring at him.

"How bad at what?" Aries asked, searching through one of the mansion's tomes on ancient runes. Sebastian had never understood the subject, and this boy was skimming through mastery-level information.

"How bad at hiding things from my family?"

"Which answer do you want, the honest answer, or the one you want to hear?"

"Give me the latter first."

"Well then I would say that the attempts at deceiving her daughter for her own good went without a hitch, and she firmly believes I am a family friend, although we have never met and you never mentioned what family. I would also say that she holds no suspicion towards you and will go to the tournament believing that her father is a god amongst men."

Sebastian snorted. His daughter was not as naïve as that.

"And the truth?"

Aries looked up from the pages illustrating the use of graphorn based runes in warding against magical creatures.

"You were terrible."

A faint smile crossed Sebastian's face.

"Will she hate me? Fleur?"

The boy shrugged, closing the heavy tome and replacing it on the shelf.

"She'll always be your daughter." The words were spoken with care.

The simple sentence made him relax. Fleur would always be part of his family, and he would do anything in his power to make him happy. He leaned back, watching as Aries moved through the tomes, picking up _The effects of the position of the moon in ward-breaking _ by Oedipus Brown. A rather outdated book.

"My family was rather smitten with you," He changed the subject, "Gabrielle most of all, I haven't seen her than happy for a long time, and she is usually very shy."

They boy shrugged once again, and allowed him to continue.

"Appolline fawns over you, I think she's always wanted a son, although she still loves her two daughters, but what surprises me the most of all is Fleur. She was... examining you, for lack of a better word."

"She tried to use her Veela allure on me." came the bland replay, and Sebastian stiffened. "Relax, she only wanted to know why I was there, and it didn't affect me anyway. As well as that, you are my contractor. It would not be good for business."

"Very professional." Sebastian remarked

"I believe that is why you hired me."

"That is true, of course," the older man mused, "But the act you put up before my family was very convincing... if it was an act."

"It was," came the emotionless response, "It works better that way, the client is easier to protect if they think well of me, the don't-"

"Don't know that deep down, inside, you are little more than an emotionless shell, a machine devoid of feeling." Sebastian suggested, and those eyes turned towards him.

"I'm sorry-" he began, but the boy shook his head and lifted his hand to stop him. His other hand swept through his blond hair, and Sebastian caught a glimpse of a scar on his forehead, shaped like a lightning bolt.

"You are correct. I find it difficult to be normal, but as client said," The smirk he wore could have frozen the air of the room they were in. "Some people have demons, others _are_ the demons."


	4. Chapter 4 - The Other Side

**Chapter Four – The Other Side**

******DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Harry Potter Franchise or any characters or magics mentioned in the books or films.**

**********Story Inspired by The Crimson Lord's 'Deprived'**

She was sitting where he'd told her to meet him, the fourteenth room of the Bloody Moon Inn. The Inn was built mainly for werewolves, vampires, and the like, but all sorts of people wound up in the semi-illegal bar, and it was busy, as it always was. Shady groups spoke in hushed conversations, looking around them for eavesdroppers. A loud werewolf, probably drunk, was boasting of his prowess in the bar. Dim lighting ensured that the guests were comfortable.

Her waist-long raven-black hair hung around her easily, adorning that aristocratic features and pale skin that she possessed. She wore a black fur coat, and tight clothes of the same color. A pair of fangs could barely be seen, jutting out from her lips. She was playing with her hair, twisting the strands around her fingers.

"Evening, Clarissa." The voice came from a blond boy with messy long hair who she was sure hadn't been there a second ago.

"Hey Aries, what's with the hair?" His normally night-black hair that made him look so dark had been replaced with a dirty blond mop.

"Last of my contracts, Clary, last thing I want is for someone to notice me from one of the Tournament schools when I go to Erudito next year."

"So you're definitely coming?" She grinned. Aries my act emotionless when he was on the job, but she was his closest friend, and he actually acted like an actual human before her. It had definitely surprised her the first time she'd heard him act normal.

"As long as you keep your fangs away from me, bloodsucker." He teased. She grimaced at that name, degrading a vampire to something parasitic, but it was rather funny anyway.

She snorted

"With all the blood magic you've used, it would probably hurt you more, and the basilisk venom that somehow embedded itself in your blood will kill the next vampire to try." It was unbelievable. He'd been bitten by a freaking _sixty foot lethal snake _and all it had done is strengthened him. Some things were so bloody unfair.

"You realise there is a counter?" He asked, gazing at her.

"What? Tell me!"

"No chance, I prefer my blood to be in my _own _body, thank you very much."

There it was, that snarky, sarcastic humour that she'd so badly missed. She gave a light laugh.

"How's the blood magic going? How long until you're the youngest with a mastery?"

"It's getting more complicated, but I'm still going strong." She stared at him incredulously, he was a bloody _genius _when it came to blood magic and runes. For something to be complicated for him meant that it was definitely mastery level.

"They're going to be so confused when you arrive at Erudito next year, already having a mastery at the subject." She grinned at the image of the unflappable ancient teachers being shocked speechless.

"How's the family?"

She grimaced.

"That bad?"

"Not really, it's just... they're so demanding of me, they expect me to be top three, and at a place like Erudito that's pretty damn impossible unless you're a genius by nature." Her family was not a peaceful one. Her mother's side was a family of assassins, much like Aries' line of work, but tailored to a more specific range of clients. And they made a little more of a mess. The bodies were always completely drained of blood.

Her father's side, on the other hand, had been involved in illegal smuggling of goods and people for over a millennium. It was high-risk, but they were the best. Clarissa, as the sole heir of her parents, had to be perfect. She knew she wasn't, but she'd damn well try. All that political power that her family currently held would be going to her, and she'd make sure that their work would not go to waste.

She'd first met Aries when she was nine years old. She'd been training, there had been two attempts to capture her in the last month. He'd lied about his name of course, calling himself 'James', and had helped her correct her mistakes. For a price, of course. Aries did almost nothing for free. The price had been a book on blood magic from her family library. He'd already stolen a blood knife. She learned that he'd done his first ritual the following week. And two more the next, despite the warnings the book gave on not waiting long enough between rituals.

Her parents knew she had a human friend, but they'd never connected the charming Aries with the mysterious Hunter. She was the only other person other than those he'd worked for and he himself.

He picked something out of his pocket. Earrings. She knew he didn't give gifts for their beauty, but all the same, the crimson hue of the gem inside was gorgeous. She looked up at him.

"What do they do?"

"Correspond with mine. Long distance communication. Several protection wards as well, but that isn't too important."

She grinned, having always been annoyed by the irregular meetings that they'd shared in their pasts.

"Why didn't you buy these earlier?"

"I invented them." The satisfied smirk on his face reminded her how clever he truly was.

"Explain."

"Gladly. Base rune is Graphorn, for parallel effects." She nodded, the rune of two was commonly used for opposites. "The most important rune in this is _Ansuz, _primarily used for conversation, listening, and communication. They're placed in series, three sets of four in a semicircle. The second in _Berkano, _for secrecy, dependence and deceit, among other things, and here's where most means of communication fail. These two runes react badly. Really badly. First time I saw someone attempt this it sent a blast of pure magic straight upwards, disintegrating his skull." He frowned. "I then used _Gebo. _Most people only know of the primary purpose, that of gifts and peace, as why it is used in objects designed for calming. However, set two of them with opposing bases, and connect them, and it's purpose morphs to that of balance, and placing that as a barrier between the two, as well as a seven-sided containment ward, will bind the magics."

"And how many times did you nearly die in creating these?" It was inevitalbe. He couldn't keep out of trouble.

"I lost all the bones in my right arm when _Gebo _attempted to balance my arm with the surrounding air." He admitted, "Took me two months to return to perfect form on that arm."

She laughed. Typical.

"Anyway, I got some business to attend, we'll speak soon." He grinned, pointing at the Earrings.

She waved him away, smiling.

* * *

I walk away from my only friend, fixing my face to become cold and emotionless once more. I don't mind the fact that there's only one person who really knows who I am. I've never been the most social after all.

I wind my way down the alley, a place far more dangerous than Knockturn at any time of the year. A werewolf grabs for my cloak, but the material, soaked in silver and heavily enchanted, makes him jump back in shock, clutching his newly injured hand. Fools.

I pass a beggar who calls for me, duck under a vampire who seems unaware of the flow of people around him, and step lightly over a body that lays on the street. This alley is not the safest.

I spy a presumably nameless and empty building. A smile crosses my features, and I enter.

The room is dimly lit, so much so that it would be difficult to see without the wards around my eyes. The sensation of taking a knife so near to one's eyes is nothing if not difficult, but the reward was definitely worth it. A gaunt man sits behind a grimy desk at the back of the store. I'm the only one in the store. Good.

"Gurthin, I need to see your... other wares." My voice carries well in the large room that we are in.

Theodore Gurthin stares at me for a second, before replying.

"I don't know what you're talking about. All the wares are currently on display."

Cautious to the point of annoyance, that man. I bring my magic to the surface, giving myself an aura of power, and the cases nearest to me are covered with frost. I try again.

"Your other wares. Now." My voice is calm, but demands respect.

Gurthin scuttles away, before opening a door that hadn't been there a moment before.

I walk into the dark room, and what I see pleases me.

"Very good. I'm sure we can... find the right price for these wares."

I lift a knife, and jam it into the wall. It sinks down to the hilt, through solid stone. A grin crosses my face. It is not the grin of a happy man. It is that of a man who knows he is powerful, and can become even more so.


	5. Chapter 5 - Equipment

**Chapter Five – Equipment**

A simple bloodknife. Long blade – presumably steel, sturdy, very sharp. The hilt is wooden, wrapped in a tough black leather. In perfect condition, although not particularity expensive, though well enough for most basic rituals. It is useless for someone like me.

A book on the use of bloodmagic in necromancy. Heavy, several hundred pages, and obviously complicated. He'd take it.

A portkey. Touching that would be foolish. I could sense its magical signature from half the room away. Presumably it would put an end to anyone who thought that they could take whatever they wanted.

Another bloodknife. Definitely old, but – what was this? A basilisk fang as blade? The knife is obviously expensive, and of good quality, but it was worn. That will be no problem, a little sharpening will correct this. I wonder what it would do with my altered blood. Perhaps a stronger bond would be created? I decide to take it.

Another knife, but this one was a weapon. I study the runes. A reversed _Halagaz _rune, combined with several others in an offensive pattern – That is to say, one aimed at an outside source. A backwards healing rune would prevent almost all traditional means of healing, but there were a few that could ignore the presence of that particular rune. It also had a piercing pattern – how odd that defensive runes were wards, but there was no name for offensive runes – which would make this a weapon to be reckoned with. Better that it was in my hands than another fool's.

A metal sphere. Studying the runes on the surface, it's definitely offensive, with a rune complex that suggests a burst of energy directed outwards – an explosion. It's a _magically activated grenade. _Interesting. I'll take this for a closer examination.

Ah. What I was looking for. It's almost impossible to see with it's glass-like material, and barely bigger than a pea, but flat. It was a tracking device, with a life of about six months while activated. I would attach it to my client after warding it to send me a signal when she felt fear. It's far from legal, but it gets the job done.

Gathering the items I've chosen, I make my way to Gurthin. He's been watching me from behind the counter, making sure I don't steal anything. I doubt he could stop me, but it's better not to leave a trail for people to track me, and breaking out of a nameless shop with arms full of illegal items will most likely do that.

Placing the items before him, I take a glance at his hands. They're twitching, getting ready for something to happen. He lifts his wand at me, and I can see he's confident I won't react in time.

Fool.

My wandless _stupefy _catches him on the chest hard enough to launch him into the wall behind him, and he's out cold. So slow. Sighing, I check the shelves again. If he tries to kill me, I may as well deserve compensation. I slide everything in the room into a moleskin pouch with a space-enlargement charm. Business is done, now to cover my tracks.

I approach Gurthin's senseless form on the ground, and force his eyes to open.

"_Legimens!" _Peering through his thoughts, I work out that there was no real reason for him to attack me, he simply thought I was an unprepared child who he could steal from. What an idiot.

Sighing, I got to work. With a couple memory charms laced in with some compulsions, I weave a tale of a rich man, whose identity he cannot remember, coming into the shop and purchasing every item they had. I then change his memories so that he believes that he spent all the money earned in selling those items whilst drunk in celebration. That should explain the missing money. While I'm at it, I may as well add a compulsion that will leave him feeling that he should give me a better deal than everyone else, in case I return here. I don't have much time, but I think it'll hold, as he doesn't appear to have the strongest of minds.

I walk through the door with a sack full of stolen items and mind full of stolen thoughts.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore wrote the final terms of the Triwizard Tournament, making sure that the age limit was just under the Chosen One's age. Albus had decided to hold this tournament in order to let him win, and therefore increase the public's perception of him. After all this, when the child was killed by Voldemort it would create a martyr to fight for, and he, Albus Dumbledore, would be the wizarding world's saviour once more. It was a flawless plan, but he had to make sure that the other schools in the tournament did not win. He already had a plan to drop hints about the first event, but the other two required work. Perhaps he could strike a deal with the merpeople to only target the other two champions? Yes, that would be for the best.

While thinking about this, his thoughts turned to the other Potter. It had been a shame that he'd needed to put a notice-me-not on that child, he would've been a useful tool in order to affect his twin. The notice-me on the Chosen one had truly helped his cause, and the Potters had turned to him in their grief in losing the other Potter. So many years later, there was no doubt that they were firmly under his thumb. He'd even convinced them to give him their seats on the Wizengamot.

Now, he needed to control the security. Enlisting the help of James Potter and Sirius Black as Senior Aurors in control of the entire operation. The two of them firmly believed that Albus Dumbledore could do no wrong, and it would be not problem to alter their commands, that would most likely come from Amelia Bones. The woman infuriated him, she could not see the Greater Good. She was too focused on the rights of the individuals, and would not bend in terms of the law. However, she _was _the best for the position of Head of the DMLE. The country would do well with her in charge of the Ministry, but Albus would suffer, so he kept her at her station. It was for the Greater Good.

Back to the Aurors. One of them could probably be bribed to slip some Malaclaw venom in the food of the other champions. Terrible luck may prove fatal in a tournament in a tournament like this, and their deaths would not be good for Hogwarts. He'd have to find a way to control the outcome. Perhaps the objective judges could be influenced: Ludo Bagman was in debt, and Albus could convince him to place a bet on Potter, increasing what points he'd be given, and decreasing those of the others.

The tournament would be a good place for recruiting a younger generation of Light wizards. A few compulsions would alter what they believed in. Durmstrang would not be easy, a strong will was needed in a place like that, but France had the highest concentration of Light Wizards in the world, although most of the richer ones were more objective in their beliefs.

He sat up straighter in his chair, popping a lemon drop in his mouth. Not one from the bowl on his desk of course, as those were spiked with a calming draught and a mild truth serum. A strong minded person could probably fight it off, as it needed to be weak enough to not be noticeable. He pondered on one of his old students. Remus Lupin hadn't had an easy life, but Albus now had a place for him. Someone had given Binns the newspaper that listed his death over sixty years, and he had moved in. Remus had gotten an Outstanding in his OWLs, and Albus had no doubt that he'd accept the position. His informants had informed him that Remus hadn't been in a steady job for over a year. If he could reunite Remus and James, then the Potters would be even more grateful to him. Perhaps he could convince them to donate a small amount for the Order.

Yes, Albus reflected, life was good for him.

A pity it would become much more complicated.

* * *

I slipped on my boots, made of the highest quality dragon hide, and warded to the point of over-protectiveness. Dragon hide had a high magical resistance and could not be enchanted or charmed, but runes still worked perfectly fine. A couple to increase movement speed and balance could be be as vital in a battle as any repertoire of spells.

My vest. Custom-made, the hide of a Himalayan mountain dragon – notoriously difficult to kill – with wires of mithril woven between the surface. The vest was probably worth a small manor. It was worth ever penny, ever since it had saved my life from a two foot metal spike, which had only bruised me for a week or so, thanks to magical healing.

Leg pieces, most importantly was the space-enlargement charms on the pockets, with a twist that let me remove whatever item I wished. It was mastery level charms. I had refrained from taking any masteries, considering I still changed my name so often, and did not wish to be found until I retired from my current occupation.

Gloves. Although most wizards did not check for fingerprints, it didn't hurt to be a little paranoid. With a few runes, the gloves would prevent my wand from slipping, or being taken from me.

I'll have to use a wand normally so as not to attract suspicion, so the Gauntlet would have to stay. I could pick it up later, after the year had ended. The Gauntlet was a piece of technology, a long metal glove that reached my elbow when worn. My wand would be fitted into a slot on the inside, and the Gauntlet was so heavily warded that it was virtually indestructible, and I'd be hard-pressed to miss with that piece of technology. When I leave my line of work work I plan to make a name for myself, and the Gauntlet would mark me out as different. It certainly looked intimidating, all the runes showed very little metal beneath.

Lifting my head, I look at the clock. It was time to go to school.


	6. Chapter 6 - Beauxbatons

**Chapter 6 – Beauxbatons**

_L'Académie de Magie de Beauxbatons, _or Beauxbatons academy of magic, was probably one of the most beautiful schools in the world. Located in the Palace of Beauxbatons in the Pyrenees in southern France, it was awash with sunshine all year long, and the air was warm enough to feel comforting without being too hot.

The architecture of the building had been updated several times, but the latest style was from the nineteenth century, when an influx of Greek architecture, seen through the medium of etchings and engravings, gave a new impetus to neoclassicism called the Greek Revival. Cities like St Petersburg, Athens, Berlin, and Munich had completely changed to accommodate the new style, it had never really caught on in France. However, the Headmaster of the school at the time had been rather fond of the classical designs, and what resulted was a sort of hybrid of the two styles.

To be frank, the neoclassical-gothic hybrid was a truly stunning form of design. The main school was built like an elaborate cathedral. Four beautiful towers rose from the main building, adorned with enormous, elaborate stained-glass windows that covered half the length of the tower. The front gate was a piece of art. Blanketed with so many patters, it made the door move as if flowing when it was opened, and the luxuriant form of the hallways made the school seem like something out of a fairy tale. Above the gate, a rose window, sixty feet in diameter, watched over the entrance to the school.

Away from the main building, a salt-water lake shone in the sunlight. It was very different to the one at Hogwarts, with water so bright that it almost glowed. The more Greek-styled buildings sat on the side of the lake, which was where the advanced classes were situated. Wood nymphs sat around the banks of the like, gossiping about anything and everything that crossed their minds. They often came into contact with the students, so it was not easy to be bigoted when surrounded by those that you were in danger of offending.

Although the school was in a mountain range, it was not particularity high up. The gorgeous gardens, filled with fountains that contained an otherworldly beauty, sat facing the mountains, which flanked the school on the West and North sides.

The French value beauty far more than any other country, and Beauxbatons was a testament to that fact. The picturesque school looked like something out of a painting. The carriages containing the cheerful students show the beginning of another school year.

* * *

Fleur sat in the carriage, counting in her head and waiting for her best friend to stop talking. Marie was a brilliant friend, the most loyal person she'd ever met, but she could talk for _hours_. It didn't matter what she'd talk about, it would come out as a long string that usually caught Fleur completely unprepared for any sort of conversation.

A nudge brought her out of her thoughts.

"Who were you talking to before we got in?" Fleur rolled her eyes. Marie was a terrible gossip, although she'd never shared any of Fleur's secrets.

"A family friend. He is joining the fourth years this year as a transfer student, and my father wishes for him to be comfortable." She didn't like lying, but nor did she want Marie blathering on about her getting into another relationship.

"He sure looks handsome, not as much as you, but I'll easily say he gets asked by at least ten girls to go out with them." It was true, the boy had looks that some would kill for, and he used them so easily that they became twice as effective.

Fleur herself was probably the most beautiful girl. Due to her part-Veela heritage, Fleur was a breathtakingly good-looking witch, and caught a lot of attention from boys her age and a lot of jealousy from other girls, which made her relationship with the others in her year uneasy at best. She was tall and willowy, with an air of grace that made her seem like she was gliding when she was walking and her very presence seemed to emanate a faint, silvery glow. She had long beautiful hair of silvery blonde, large, deep blue eyes, fair skin, a petite frame and very white, even teeth.

"You're probably right, but he's so stoic he'll turn them all down." Stoic was not the word she was looking for, but it would not do to call the new student 'cold', or 'emotionless', even though he reminded her more of a machine than a man.

"How long until you turn him into an emotional wreck with your aura?" Marie was fond of seeing Fleur's effect on the male population of the school. Fleur didn't find it quite as amusing.

"He doesn't react."

"So hit him with everything you have!"

"I did." Marie raised an eyebrow.

"What did he do?" Fleur scowled

"Told me we were late for our meal." Fleur still wasn't sure how he'd ignored it like it was nothing. It annoyed her to no end.

"What?" Marie had her mouth agape.

"Just like I said, it had no affect on him."

"That's amazing!"

Fleur just scowled again.

"I know!" Marie injected, "Now that you've found a person who acts as if you're normal, you can woo him to get past his 'stoic' front, as you put it. Then you'll get together and see true love and live a long fruitful life!"

Fleur froze.

"I must be mistaken, for I thought I heard you planning out the rest of my life with a stranger you haven't even met."

Marie just grinned.

Fleur looked out the window, spotting the scenic route that led to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.

"We're here, let's go and talk about other things than your romantic fantasies."

* * *

It is a sign of respect in Beauxbatons that the students do not sit until the Headmistress has done so, and stand whenever she enters the room. She is certainly a person to be respected, as her playings in political circles have been largely successful despite her giant heritage.

The meal was certainly exquisite, and had enjoyed it. He was busy charming the girl next to him when the Headmistress rose, and the rest of the school with her.

"Please sit."

There was the sound of benches scraping as almost a thousand students sat down – Well, closer to eight hundred, but it didn't matter much either way. He would only be here for a single year.

"As some of you may know, the Triwizard Tournament is being held in Hogwarts for the first time in over one hundred and fifty years." Nervous chattering filled the hall. "It will be a chance to earn glory and fame, as well as prestige for Beauxbatons. The staff have not agreed on a list of students for the time being, but as we are leaving in a little under two months, you have this time to prove yourself worthy of representing this prestigious school in the tournament. Only fifty students will be chosen, and the youngest possible age for being chosen in fourteen." A slight muttering accompanied these words.

"With all that over, let us retire to our dormitories."

* * *

School was quite possibly the most boring thing he'd ever done. Aries had had to massively downplay his own skills. The teachers thought he was a prodigy, even though he was trying to look bad. Despite all this, he preformed as a skilled seventh year would. He finished the work assigned in little over a few minutes, and spent the rest of the lesson time doing arithmetic calculations for his next blood runes.

He'd been the centre of attention, naturally. It was terrible. Over the past month, he'd been asked to do many things. He'd turned away four girls, he'd rejected the offer to join several quidditch teams, but the people still pushed him for _something._ Perhaps they just wanted to share the limelight. He hated being the centre of attention.

It was early October. He had been going to the lake with his notebook, close enough to Fleur to protect her, but not close enough to arouse suspicion. From there he'd do whatever runic project he was focusing on. However, not everything had gone to plan.

A group of seventh years had cornered him on the way outside, and he was now standing across from them.

"Listen, new kid!" The voice was rough. Supposedly it was meant to scare him, but to Aries it only made the boy sound uneducated. "That's one of our spots in the tournament that you're taking!"

"My greatest condolences then, but I'm afraid that the placing is based on ability, not age." They were blocking the corridor, and a small crowd had arrived. "I'd explain it to you, but I don't have any crayons on hand."

There was laughing, and the boy's face reddened.

"Shut up! We deserve that spot!" He pointed a beefy arm at Aries.

"Strong as an ox, and almost as intelligent, your parents must be so proud." Aries remarked, goading them.

The laughing was louder, this time, and the boys clutched their wands. Aries had slipped his into his hand before the confrontation, and was currently holding it, but not letting the fools before him see it.

"You'll shut up if you know what's good for you!"

"It's nice to see that you've set aside a special time to humiliate yourself." Aries replied, still smiling.

The laughing was raucous now, and that was the last straw for the group before him. Their wands are out, and his was already in his palm, spinning quickly. They lift their arms, waving them in the elaborate movements that those troubled in magic need to use. Meaningless really. Wizards are all fools, in a battle you strike first, and strike hard.

His silent _reducto _ caught the ringleader in the chest, and he flew into the wall behind. He then summoned Goon 2 across so he flew into two others, and bound them, once again silently. Four down, four to go. The NEWT students haven't fired a single spell.

His silent, motionless _expulso_ came next, the blue spell hitting the floor between them, andlaunched the other four away. They hit the walls surrounding them. Hard. They fell to the floor, clutching their heads.

So. Slow.

Wizards never learned.

He spun on his heel, facing the hushed crowd.

"Is there anyone else?"

Silence answered him.

"Good."

He spun on his heel and left, leaving only silence and the defeated, mostly unconscious, bodies of those who had challenged him.

* * *

Fleur and Marie were walking outside now that school was finished, discussing the lessons they'd had during the day, when they reached a crowded corridor. Peering over the heads of those watching, she could see Aries, looking totally relaxed, making a mockery of eight boys, all three years older than him. Fleur shook her head. Weren't bodyguards supposed to be the restrained ones? There was no chance he'd get out of this unscathed.

Nevertheless, she giggled upon hearing Aries' witty comeback to the brutish boy in front of him. Looking at Aries, she could see he wasn't as relaxed as he was acting. _He knows this will result in a fight._ Aries was holding his wand, it was not easy to see, but his eyes were hard beneath his jovial expression.

Another witty remark went by, and she could see that the group was ready to attack. Apparently so did Aries, because when the ringleader raised his wand, he _moved. _There was no other word for it. One second he was standing there, cheeky grin on his face, and the next he was springing into action, and Fleur didn't hear him make a sound as his first curse hit the first of the troublemakers head-on, and he was launched across the hallway, hitting the wall with a crunch.

Aries didn't stop to watch though. A flick of his wand sent one of the attackers into two others, effectively taking them out the fight when ropes appeared around them to bind them. Flowing into action again, Fleur was in awe as he launched a fourth spell and took out _all four _of the remaining opponents that had been foolish enough to cross him.

Fleur was shocked. At fourteen, he had taken out eight opponents, all three years older than him, in around three seconds. All silent, and before the seventeen year olds had even been able to fire a single spell. Fleur understood now why her father was so anxious to get on good terms with the boy who had seemed to harmless only seconds ago. He turned towards her, and Fleur swore that she could see him smirk, but it passed so quickly she passed it off as her imagination.

"Is there anyone else?" His voice was clear, brimming with confidence.

Silence followed his questions. As if anyone would challenge the boy who had _humiliated _eight NEWT level students in three seconds flat.

"Good." Fleur felt her lips twitch. The certainty with which he said that word made her feel strangely happy.

She watched him as he disappeared down the corridor, turning around the corner.

"Fleur?" Marie's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Yes?"

"If you don't want to marry him, I think I will."

Fleur snorted. It was nice to see Marie was acting like herself.

* * *

**I haven't really communicated with the readers personally, other than in some Pms to reply to reviews, so here's my time to do so.**

**Here are some replies to the questions you've asked and things you've brought up:**

**To those telling me that I shouldn't drop it. Don't worry. I plan on continuing this until it reaches over 200k words, and then I have plans for a sequel.**

**To those worried about my chapter length. I'm sorry, but that's just my personality. My bursts of inspiration are sporadic, and I've actually written most of this half-naked in bed, late at night, so I apologise if you prefer longer chapters. I know I do, but I don't have the right mindset to go through with my aims in that regard.**

**Erudito is a magic school, to answer the question asked. It will be vital in the sequel, but this story will not feature it much, perhaps a little at the end. Can anyone guess how I came up with the name? Brownie points if you can.  
**

**When I wrote Dumbledore's two scenes in different styles (Caring and malicious), that was intentional. I won't reveal anything.**

**Anyway. Thanks for all the encouraging words, as they're why I write the story. After I've finished my two fanfic stories (Which will most likely take a year or two) I'm thinking of writing a book.**

**Yours,**

**WhereTheWindTakesMe.**


	7. Chapter 7 - Preparations

**Chapter Seven – Preparations**

**First of all, I'm SO sorry I couldn't update sooner, but I've been without internet for a week, and there's little I can do to prevent that. In return for your forgiveness, I have tomorrow's chapter ready already for you, but I'll wait till tomorrow to post it so that I can get back into a rhythm in writing. Now for a few responses.**

**Oh I am Slain: I know that I'm taking a few stereotypes, but that's because this is my first story, and thus I need to create something that people can relate to before I start off on a new tangent. As for his relation with the characters, there will be a few major twists. One or two of which you will all hate me for. Sorry about that. Overall, this was a very interesting comment to read, I'll try to surprise you in the future.**

**lightning king: The extreme change in Dumbledore's personalities is intentional. I don't want to reveal too many spoilers, so that's all I can give you.**

**sanbeegoldiewhitey: That would be great, if Harry weren't so shut off from any positive feelings. You'll notice that he only refers to Fleur as his client in his thoughts, and not as an actual person. I'm also wondering whether to make him slightly sadistic, as his backstory, (Which will be explained in two or three chapters) is an environment that doesn't really allow survival if you try and see the good in others.**

** Enjoy!**

Fleur was surprised to see Aries in her favourite spot. She was even more surprised when he stepped over the balcony and climbed up onto the roof. Peering up to look for him, she could tell that he enjoyed being up there, as his face was far more relaxed here than anywhere else she'd ever seen him.

"Miss Delacour, are you planning on joining me, or are you just here for the view?" Aries had noticed her, and she blushed even though she didn't know why she was embarrassed. She _had_ been staring at him rather than at the view, and he knew it. He gave that infuriating cheeky grin, but Fleur could see it didn't reach his eyes.

"The crowd went crazy when you left." She informed him.

"Should I be worried?" He asked, "I have, after all, attacked several pureblood heirs, including the Mister Malfey, who undoubtedly had good connections in Britain. He could make life difficult for me, after all. That is – if he is capable of intelligent thought, which I saw a lack of in the corridor."

She giggled at his words, then berated herself for doing so.

"How do I get up there?" She asked, curious.

"Place your hands on the gargoyle," she did so, "Now swing your left foot across, out of the balcony, so it reaches the third indent." Using her arms, she lifted herself and threw her lower body over the balcony, catching the spot that he'd talked about. "Brilliant. Now lift your right foot to where your knee is at the moment, and push up on in to catch the roof. From there you can use the gargoyle as a stepping stone to push yourself up here." Fleur licked her lips, and began following his instructions.

The gargoyle he talked about was hardly a gargoyle, in fact it looked much more like an angel, as no ugly gargoyle would ever be caught in such a beautiful school.

Leaping up, she caught the edge of the roof, barely, and lifted her dangling legs until she placed them on the gargoyle he'd mentioned. Pushing on her legs, she managed to get on the roof, where she collapsed, exhausted.

Hands lifted her and brought her to an alcove that was rather comfortable to sit at. Looking out, she could see a sight that made her catch her breath. Aries was standing by the edge of the roof, his form silhouetted by the blazing red sun that was setting at the time. Below him, the light from, the sun was caught by the lake and reflected, creating a streak of red in the bright blue lake. It was an absolutely stunning sight.

"The view here is wonderful." She breathed.

"I didn't come here for that, but I have to agree with you." He admitted, shrugging.

"Then why did you come here?"

He turned and smiled at her.

"The tranquillity, I guess. The hubbub of daily school life can't be heard all the way up here, and hardly anyone will try to climb onto a roof to find me." He grinned at that.

"It can't just be that," she pressed, "There are many peaceful places that do not require you to be several hundred feet above the ground." He shrugged.

"Maybe, but are they so open that you can feel the air on your face? So calm that you feel unwilling to break the silence? Not really."

There was a long silence.

"I guess I like being really high up, too." He added cheerfully.

"Why?"

"I like it. I'm not an adrenaline junkie or anything, but these past few weeks have been lethargic at best."

"Do you think it will be dangerous? The tournament?" she asked him.

"Your father is a powerful man, with a great many friends, but also a large number of enemies. Men will try to capture you as leverage for your father. He cares very strongly about you."

"You admit to being a bodyguard?"

"I never denied it."

"Yes you did!"

"No, I just repeatedly changed the subject until you forgot the question. Why do you think I talked about your parents, or your wand?"

He was right once again. She found it increasingly infuriating.

"You're not like most bodyguards I've met. Most try to act like I shouldn't know about the danger at all."

"Bad bodyguards then."

"What is the sign of a good bodyguard then?"

"Dashing looks, a charming smile, and most of all – they will be named Aries." He nodded to himself, "Or whatever name I use at the time."

"What is your real name then?"

"That's for me to know, and for you to spend nights on end annoyed about it because you don't know, Miss Delacour."

"Why are you working in this profession anyway? From what my father said, you have four years worth of reputation, which meant that you were eleven when people first heard of you."

"Would you believe me if I said that I ran away from home, was adopted by wolves, and taught myself magic, at this high a level that I am a renowned hired gun, with no other help?"

"No, I don't think I would."

"You're right, of course."

She looked at him, curious.

"I was raised by lions, not wolves."

She couldn't stop her laugh.

"Do I get a raise for making you laugh?"

"You are the most interesting bodyguard I have ever met."

"Is that a yes for the raise?"

"Good night, Aries." She smiled, and dropped down onto the balcony.

Above her, Aries smirked, he'd managed to place the tracker without her notice. His client would be safe until next year, with him at her side.

* * *

"Mister Aries." The Headmistress looked at the boy who'd defeated eight older children in a magical duel with the effort it took to blink.

He certainly looked the part, with the a strong confidence that didn't reach into arrogance. Most purebloods would kill to have such a powerful trait. It could be seen by the easy way he walked, by the charming way he talked, and the seemingly messy long hair that he made look like it was styled professionally. Beauxbatons would look very good with him as a representative.

"Madam Maxime." His manners were good, she remarked, as he remained standing until she motioned.

"It is not good for a new student to be summoned to my office with only a month and a half having passed." She stated. His expression didn't change.

"It isn't." He agreed, irritatingly.

"Do you have anything to say in your defence?" She asked, wondering if he had an excuse for this fight. He certainly seemed to be the type that would be prepared for almost any situation.

"The school rules page one hundred and four, paragraph five states that: 'any student using spells that are not dangerous in their self own self defence cannot be given punishment as per the usual, unless a student takes a large enough injury to inform the parents of the injured student or students', and the injuries they received did not suffice to be a call to the parents." She was not disappointed.

"Very well, and you are not worried about their political power? The students that assaulted you were all purebloods."

"If they tell their families that eight of them were defeated by a single half-blood three years younger than them without any of them firing off a spell, than their health is in more danger than mine." It was true, most old houses were harsh when the honour of that house was in danger.

"Very good Mister Aries, you may leave."

As he stood up, left the room, and closed the door behind him, she smiled. The other schools would be very jealous of such a talented fourteen year old.

* * *

The morning of the choosing was a hectic day in Beauxbatons. Tensions were high, although students were on their best behaviours in order to not sabotage their own ambitions at winning. There was a betting pool and oddly enough, Aries remarked, he was the sole fourth year with any sort of a chance.

He'd decided that since he'd have to be in the tournament, he'd try place himself near the bottom of the students so that he wouldn't stand up, yet high enough so that nobody could say that he didn't deserve to be in the tournament at all. It was a fine balance, and one that had taken hours of careful planning on which parts of essays to blunder on or how well he'd have to answer the questions in lessons.

It all came down to this.

Students arranged themselves quickly to eat, hurrying to hear the results. Dinner was a constant stream of talking. Talking about who would get in. Talking about how great it would be to visit another country. Talking about what the tournament tasks would be. How it annoyed him.

The girl beside him – Alice was her name, he remembered – struck up a conversation with him.

"So, Aries, think you'll have a good chance of getting in?" It was rumor in the school that Aries was a genius. If only they knew the whole truth. He smirked inwardly.

"I believe I will, although I doubt I'll be near the top." His planning had made sure of that.

"Planning on entering the actual tournament?"

"No, I really just want to go visit another magical school." He smiled falsely over the lie. He'd been to dozens of places of magical education as part of his work.

"I'd probably do the same, if I could manage to get in." Most of those below OWL years, which was sixth year in France, knew that they didn't stand much of a chance.

He nodded at her chatter and looked for his client. She was nervous. Her fingers tapping against the table, the twitching of her leg, and the way she constantly licked her lips told him that. He wished she'd remain calm. It made his work far more easy.

The talking stopped as the Headmistress stood, followed by her students. When she told them to sit, the tension in the air was so thick you could almost _touch _it. The Headmistress cleared her throat, and began.

"Frateur, Jean-Luc"

He now knew that the naming was ordered by skill now. The Head boy, in his NEWT year, was a high achiever with a strong will to learn. He listened in again as the names droned on.

He nodded as 'Delacour, Fleur' and 'Morrine, Marie' became seventh and eighth respectively. She was more than competent at charms, and held the drive that would be needed to win the tournament, but she lacked in some other areas of wandwork, such as offensive spells, instead preferring to hold back. How stupid. So many young people now saw dueling as only a way to show off, and rarely a battle that your life could depend on.

"Aries" There was lukewarm applause at the strangely named boy who'd taken the thirty second spot. He'd been at the school for only two short months, was three years younger than most of the competition, and was far and above the best duelist his age anyone had seen. Some were jealous, others were proud. He didn't care what they thought, as long as his assignment was not in danger.

He accepted their praises, ignored their looks of scorn, and kept watching as the Headmistress went through the list of names.

With "Dupont, George" finishing the listings, the Headmistress turned to her students and began to speak.

"Students of Beauxbatons, today fifty of you have been chosen to uphold our school's excellent reputation in the international Triwizard Tournament. I expect those of you leaving to do your very best, and act on your best behavior. That does not mean that those staying behind are allowed to miss out on their studies, as we will keep the same disciplinary measures, even if I am not here at the time. We will leave for Hogwarts in two days, so if you have been chosen, please take care to bring whatever you believe you may need. Good night."


	8. Chapter 8 - The Journey

**Chapter 8 – The Journey**

My dragonhide vest fits snugly against my chest, giving me a reassurance that I will not be caught unprepared. A knife is strapped to my left leg, with straps that will only release with my own magical signature. My pockets are filled with a host of items that will be of use for anything from a snack to eat to an improvised torture device. It is not something I condone, but the client's safety always comes first, and I do not allow any foolish moralities to affect my actions. Except one, of course.

My trunk for school is behind me, being pulled on it's wheels towards the carriages that are being led by the flying horses the Headmistress is so fond of. My real trunks are shrunken, and carried on my person via a necklace that uses them as beads.

A knife to break locks is stored in my dragonhide boots, in a hidden compartment in the sole. The other contains the explosive device that was stolen from Gurthin's before I joined my client at the school.

My second wand is strapped to my right arm, in easy reach so that I can hold a wand in either hand and put them away without any discomfort.

All this equipment for only a carriage ride may be seen as paranoid, but my paranoia is the reason that I have never failed an assignment, and I do not plan to do so in my final assignment in this line of work.

My client is ahead of me, speaking with a friend. I move, so that I have a clear line of sight of her. The Headmistress is beginning to move groups into the carriages, so I weave my way through the crowd to arrive behind my client. Leaving her in a different compartment to myself would be a mistake only an amateur would make.

A wandless _confundus _causes one of the prefects moving the students into the carriages to place me in the same carriage as my client. Along with us is her friend, and a boy and girl from the seventh year. I recognise the girl from the crowd that gathered before the fight.

I sit back, and try to enjoy the ride, watching for any sign of danger.

LINE BREAK

Fleur was surprised to see Aries in the same carriage as her, but she probably shouldn't have been, he was always in the perfect place to watch over her when she went around her school life, but now that she was going into a dangerous place, out of her father's influence, she expected that she'd always see him around her in Hogwarts if she looked hard enough.

Sitting next to her, as always, was her best friend Marie Morrine. Her mouth was moving as fast as it could, and words were coming out her mouth at bullet speed. Marie's brown, medium length hair fell just past her shoulders, and her tanned, attractive features worked well with her flirty attitude when she wanted something.

Suddenly Marie's stream of information – some gossip from school – ended as she noticed that she was in the same carriage as the handsome, talented, foreign student that had half the school in love with him and the other half incredibly confused. A cheeky grin crossed her face as she looked at his fine-looking, aristocratic features that made him stand out amongst the male Beauxbatons population. Marie was a predator, and she'd marked Aries out as her prey. Fleur decided not to get involved, this could become very interesting.

"So, Aries, why have you turned down all of the sixteen girls that have asked for you to be with them?" Marie was still grinning

"Probably, Miss Morrine, because their looks could not hold a candle to your own beautiful features." Aries' tone was light, but Fleur could see he had a glint in his eyes, he was accepting the challenge.

"Well," Marie stumbled on her words, not expecting an answer like that, "Aren't you the charmer? Would you like to find a broom closet or something?"

"Alas Miss Morrine, but you shouldn't dive in too early. I'm afraid I'm not interested in a short term relationship." He was grinning.

"And the female part of Beauxbatons will sorely miss you." Marie laughed.

"Moving on," came the voice of the other male in the carriage, a seventh year named François, with short blond hair and slightly paler skin than most. "What was it like destroying eight people in a duel?"

"A duel? No, they were just standing there helping Aries practice." Marie joked. "Seriously though, how are you so good?"

"Would you believe me if I said it was how I was brought up?" Aries asked.

"No."

"Ah then, it was how I brought myself up, in that case."

Fleur rolled her eyes.

"What spells did you use in that duel?" This came from the quiet readhead in the corner. "The first looked like a _reducto, _but that's a blasting spell, and from what I saw, the boy was still in one piece, rather than having a hole in his chest as he should have done. It preformed rather like and expulsion curse, but focused on one person."

Aries nodded his head. "It was an underpowered _reducto_. When you put less power into it, it tries to blast the thing in question, but lacks the piercing power to punch a hole in them, so it just launches them in the opposite direction."

"And the next spell? I didn't see any lights, so I assume it was some sort of charm, unless it was part of your family magics." The readhead questioned him again.

"You are correct for a second time. I used the summoning charm to pull one of them into the other two, taking the three of them out at once."

"But he didn't come straight towards you, as a summoning charm usually does. Instead, it made it's way around one of the boys so that it would take out two of your opponents." Fleur was impressed by the girl's attentiveness. That was three very intelligent points she'd come up with so far."

"You all know that a summoning charm, when preformed well, will cause an item to move so that it won't hit any obstacles?" There were nods all around. "Well, I tricked the magic into thinking that there was a wall between the object and myself, causing it to swerve out of the way, hitting the other boys." Fleur lifted her eyebrows. That was an impressive piece of magic.

"And how is that done? Tricking the spell into thinking that?" Came the next question.

"I actually invented it, to the best of my knowledge no other means of doing what I did exist, and made it into a family magic." Fleur gaped. He _invented _a new form of magic? Wow.

"So we can't use the same spells in a duel as you did?"

"You could, but the summoning charm would go right towards you, and the blasting curse would blow a small hole into the person's chest unless you feed it less power."

"And that possible? Altering the power like that?"

"It is." Aries became more serious, and Fleur could see that was a thing he was seriously interested in. "People have said that magic is a flow. In my opinion, that is a lie. Magic is an ocean, incredibly deep, and when you use it, you create waves. You can choose to make smaller waves by lowering the power, or huge ones by empowering your spells." He paused. "An empowered blasting curse will turn your target into a bloody soup, and the rapid change of pressure will cause their limbs to fly off." There was a nervous pause at this. "An empowered tickling charm could cause internal bleeding from the movement of organs if you hit someone hard enough."

"That is not to say that high-powered spells are the best to use in battles. Quite the opposite in fact. A low powered expulsion curse could send someone's teeth flying into their brain, or an underpowered summoning charm could be used to pull a blood vessel out of place." The readhead was looking rather green at this.

"And why didn't you use an empowered curse on those troublemakers in the corridor?" That came from François.

"Probably because it would be a lot of paperwork for me if I had to explain why eight of the students had joined the menu as meat soup." Marie giggled, but Fleur didn't doubt that Aries wouldn't have hesitated in doing so if her life was in danger.

She nudged Aries, wanting to speak privately. He noticed this, and used a dozen privacy charms in order to stop their conversation from being followed by eavesdroppers.

"Have you been to Hogwarts before?" She asked.

"Yes." She wasn't surprised. He'd seemingly been everywhere.

"What for?"

"Have you heard of the chamber of secrets?" The name sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it to a location. She shook her head.

"Everyone knows that the school was built by the four founders: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. Legend has it that Salazar built a chamber underneath the school, containing something that could be ordered by his heir in order to protect the school. Somehow 'protect the school' turned into 'cleanse the school from the muggleborn filth' and so the chamber was opened fifty years ago, and a student was killed. The boy who opened the chamber left the school at the end of the year, and disappeared. Supposedly. But two years ago, a diary of the boy in question was smuggled into the school, and given to a young first year."

"From there it possessed her into opening the chamber, which unleased the beast, causing several people to be petrified, but remarkably no deaths. Officially, the diary disappeared, along with the beast, never to be seen again."

"And the real story?" She asked.

He smirked.

* * *

_A boy, clutching the invisibility cloak he'd stolen when he ran away from home, walked through the corridors of the school underneath it, concealed from sight. He could detect the parselmagics from a room above him, and he followed the feel of the magic to find it's source._

_He could feel the scent becoming stronger and stronger, until he finally walked into a... girl's bathroom? How curious. He spotted the snake on one of the taps and smiled. How devious of the founder._

"_**Open.**" He hissed, and the taps split to reveal a large pipe. He snorted, there was no way he was going to dive into a hole without knowing what was on the other side._

"_**Stairs.**" The pipe moved to reveal a set of ancient steps, covered with what seemed to be sculptured of hundreds of types of snakes. He took his time as he moved down the steps into the chamber. The entrance of the chamber was a cave, damp and dreary. He spotted the shedded skin of the basilisk. At a thousand years old, the snake was enormous, but it would be almost twice the size if it hadn't live it's entire life in one room. He glanced ahead of him and rolled his eyes. Another door. How sure did Salazar need to be that the person entering was a parseltongue?_

"_**Open.**" He hissed once again, and the snakes rolled off of the vault-like the door. It swung open, revealing a room that seemed to have been carved out of solid stone. Several pillars held up the ceiling, and the huge statue of the man himself stood at the end of the room._

"_**Speak to me Salazar, greatest of the Hogwarts four!**" Whatever heir had chosen that password must have been incredibly self righteous. As the enormous snake slid out of the immense statue, he noticed a young girl lying on the floor, seemingly unconscious. Or dead. It wouldn't have mattered, if not for the ghostly boy standing beside her. He could see her magics flowing to the boy, feeding him. He saw the diary that she was holding and it clicked. Tom Riddle. Head boy at the time of the last girl's death. How interesting._

_Riddle had noticed him, and as he saw the face, he could see Tom's barely contained arrogance. He believed he held all the cards._

"_It's too late." Riddle spoke. "She's too far gone, you cannot save her."_

"_It is not my task to save her."_

"_Why are you here then?" Riddle looked confused._

"_To kill that." As he spoke the immense snake had freed itself, and was moving towards him. He took a bloodknife to his face, and touched it on the wards controlling the shields on his eyes. It wouldn't stop the basilisk's glare, but it wouldn't kill him instantly, only paralyze him. He turned away before the enormous yellow eyes could find his own, and pulled out his arm, fitted with the Gauntlet. His other hand held a short sword, slightly under four feet in length._

"_**Kill him!**" Riddle roared. He grinned: finally a challenge. He ducked behind a pillar, and created an illusion of himself to stand before the other. The snake lunged towards the fake, and went straight through it, hitting the pillar._

_Taking advantage of it's momentary confusion, he aimed a high-powered freezing charm at the snake, and the temperature of the room dropped by a large amount. Basilisks were cold-blooded, and this would hardly help its concentration. _

_He did not expect the green light that he only noticed at the last second, and dodged out of the way of. It appeared Riddle had enough strength to begin casting spells. He grimaced, this would not be easy. The basilisk's magic-resistant skin would stop almost every spell he could throw at it, and Riddle was not yet solid, and therefore impervious to any spells he could hit him with. He hardly had time to preform a ritual to banish ghosts, if Riddle was even a ghost._

_He sprinted towards the enormous reptile, preforming a banishing charm with the gauntlet to launch himself onto its back. He crawled up it, eyes closed, until he reached what he assumed was the head. He brought the sword down twice, and was rewarded with the screech of pain that the basilisk emitted._

_Having taken care of the basilisk's eyes, he could now open his own, but the basilisk's sense of smell was so advanced that it didn't really impair the beast. He rolled to the side as the snake lunged at him, but was hit by a cutting curse from Riddle, that slashed his lower torso. It was a large cut, and he was going to lose a lot of blood. It was a dark spell, and not one that he could heal in the middle of a fight. He cursed, and launched himself at the basilisk, anxious to end this quickly. That was a mistake._

_He drove his short sword up the basilisk's throat as it tried to bite him, but he fell onto the monstrous fangs the beast possessed. The beast howled as it died, but a fang drove into his thigh, and a second went straight through his arm. He gasped in pain as the venom kicked in. Wrenching his limbs off the fangs, he aimed a cutting curse with his uninjured, Gauntlet wielding arm that sliced through the girl's wand, currently in Riddle's possession, and the destruction of its core caused it to explode' leaving riddle weaponless._

_He gulped down a blood-replenishing potion, but the wound was large than he'd thought, and his vision was already blurry from blood loss._

"_You've lost." Riddle gloated. "You killed the basilisk, but you're going to die now, and I will destroy this school."_

_He didn't really care, but his contract probably mentioned something about leaving the school intact, so he made a last ditch effort to live. Pulling out a tube, and two vials, one of phoenix tears and one of Re'em blood._

_He used the Gauntlet to send a blast of fiendfyre at Riddle and the diary. The flame burned the ginger haired girl on the floor, but he considering the fact that he was dying, there was little room for mistakes. Riddle and the diary screamed as they were burned to death by the dark flames, screams of pain so raw, so primal, that they made him wince in pain at the noise._

_He couldn't stop to celebrate though. He was quickly loosing blood, and he'd already consumed his blood-replenishing potions. Having collapsed from the venom, he couldn't drag himself to where the girl was in time before he'd pass out. The venom in his blood was killing him, so he did the most brash thing he'd ever done in his hard, short life._

_He attempted a blood transfusion while dying._

_With a basilisk._

_The blood of a one thousand year old, sixty foot, highly venomous snake is very different to that of a human child. The blood of a basilisk is highly acidic, and by all means should burn a hole in the skin of anyone touching it. Downing a vial of phoenix tears that had cost him a small fortune to prevent the poison from killing him, and a vial of Re'em blood in order to give him the strength to stay conscious for the time being, he activated the tube, pumped, and lifted his blood knife._

_Two hours. Two agonising, pain-filled, torturous hours that felt like he was being held under the cruciatus curse. That was how long it took him to rearrange all of his organs and blood vessels in order to change his body to accommodate the new blood._

_The knife carved dozens, even hundreds of symbols into his flesh, moving quickly, never shaking even though he was under the worst pain he'd ever felt. A couple rune complexes that he'd created on instinct, along with hundreds for change, healing, and body wards._

_Finally it was over. He stood, hands shaking, and looked at what he had done. The runes were fading into his skin, ready to be called with a touch of his knife. He shuddered a little at the pain, then picked the girl up and walked up the stairs, walked into the hospital wing, and deposited her on a bed. Her eyes opened at the last second, and he flung the cloak over himself and fled the room, not wanting to be caught._

_He returned to the chamber, and collapsed on the floor. He'd collect his reward tomorrow. For now he only needed some rest._

* * *

I told her that I'd had to kill the basilisk, but little more. I certainly didn't tell her that I was no longer completely human any more, and didn't mention what I found there the following day. She couldn't have done anything with that knowledge, but it could have reached someone who could have made my work difficult for me.

I heard shouting from the other carriages, and peered out the window. Sure enough, there it was: Hogwarts.

Enemy territory.

**So you now know the answer to the question many of you have asked. Did you enjoy this chapter? Leave reviews below! They help a lot when I'm wondering where to take the story. **


	9. Chapter 9 - Hogwarts

**Chapter 9 – Hogwarts**

Hogwarts would normally have been impressive, but after two months spent at Beauxbatons, the tall towers looked vulgar, the looming gates thuggish, and the large sandstone bricks that made up the school looked roughly hewn in comparison to possibly the most beautiful place of education in the magical world.

Fleur's lip curled in disdain as she looked at the school that claimed to be the most prestigious in the world in terms of magical education. She was certain that this was false, but the documents had been locked away by a certain Head of the Wizengamot, so their claims could not be falsified. The man was highly intelligent, and had done the world much good, but no-one deserved that much power. It was as they said: power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Aries was standing next to her, emotionless as always, and as still as a statue. They'd just left the carriages, and were lining up in front of the school. They had to make an impression after all. She certainly knew she would, with her veela aura she was often one of the first ones to be singled out in a crowd. She enjoyed the attention to a certain point, but the constant stares, the lack of sense during conversations with boys, and the glaring of girls was very annoying, and she was being forced to relive the entire experience.

She sighed, the veela aura was always strongest when faced for the first time. Even without actively using it, most of the males would most likely turn into drooling wrecks. At least she'd have some intelligent company with her Beauxbatons friends.

She prepared to walk into the great hall, ready to make a good impression on the students inside. They had seen the carriages land, but the Hogwarts students had been ushered into the great hall before they caught a glimpse of the students. Madame Maxime wanted to blow the competition out of the water.

* * *

Daniel Potter was joking with his two best friends, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. They'd been firm friends ever since first year, and despite the fact that they had completely different personalities and interests, looked to stay that way.

The other schools were coming today. Daniel had listened with just as much attention as everyone else, but he didn't want to enter it. He was in need of a year without possessed teachers, mysterious monsters that paralysed a few people then vanished, and escaped prisoners that could turn into rats. He had to admit that his life was very interesting, however much he attempted to stay out of danger. Well, sometimes he didn't stay out of danger, but he wasn't _going into _danger, it just found him.

"-and Professor McGonagall said: ''is that a _student?_' And Moody didn't even look at her, he just said: 'Technically it's a ferret!'." Ron had just finished retelling the story Daniel had heard four times already, but he still laughed. The image of Malfoy bouncing around in his ferret form was still hilarious.

"You shouldn't laugh," Hermione lectured "He could have been seriously hurt if Professor Moody hadn't preformed the transfiguration right." Dan sighed, as great as Hermione was, she could rarely take a joke.

"Do you really think a professor would have done a bad transfiguration?" Dan asked. "Well, apart from Lockheart." He chuckled. The man in question had been discovered as a fraud when he and Ron had pressured him into helping them find the chamber, and had wiped all of his own memories."

"Yeah!" Ron agreed. "The git deserved it anyway, slimy snake."

The other two rolled their eyes. They'd mostly gotten over their prejudices, but Ron was still stubborn that all Slytherins were the spawn of the devil. They'd given up on changing his mind long ago.

Just then, the doors boomed open, and they watched the Durmstrang students file in, with such machine-like precision that everyone in the hall instantly became silent, watching the students file in. Just then, a student with a prominent curved nose, and thick black eyebrows entered the Hall.

Dan elbowed Ron, though it probably wasn't needed, and pointed.

"That's _Krum!_" he gasped.

"I don't believe it!" Ron muttered. "I'm going to be in the same school as _Victor Krum!_"

"For heaven's sake Ron, he's only a quidditch player." Hermione huffed in annoyance.

"Only a quidditch player?" Ron looked at her as if she'd grown an extra head. "Hermione – He's one of the best young seekers in history! I can't believe he's still in school!"

Similar conversations were occurring around them.

"... he didn't lose a single game in the world cup!"

"... and I don't even have a quill on me!"

"... Do you think he'll sign my hat in lipstick?"

"I know he's famous, but this is over the top." Hermione remarked.

The Durmstrang students sat at the Slytherin table, which had Malfoy looking pleased and Ron practically frothing at the mouth with rage. Malfoy was going to gloat about this for weeks.

And then the Beauxbatons students came in.

Ron's rant about Malfoy instantly stopped as he saw a girl that looked so beautiful it wasn't even possible for her to be human. Hermione had to slap his arm to stop him from gawking.

"Honestly Ron, you look at that girl like she fell from heaven!"

"Wozzat?" Came Ron's intelligent reply.

"You can't blame him Hermione, half the Hall's staring." Ginny interrupted. She'd been with Dan for the past year, and got on well with his friends.

True to her word, most of the Hall was enhanced by the girl's beauty. Dan looked around to see Dean Thomas, fork still in the air, gaping at the girl. The older years were practically hypnotised. Even the Weasley twins were staying completely still, looking at her.

"Dan isn't affected, and neither is Seamus." Hermione retorted.

"Dan never does things by half, and I don't think Seamus is into girls."

"Well, good for Dan then." Hermione huffed.

Dan however, wasn't paying attention to this conversation, as something else had caught his attention.

"Dad?"

James Potter had just arrived in the Hall, looking sheepish, later than all the other Aurors. Dan rolled his eyes, how typical of him, the Senior Auror in charge, to be the last person to join the Hogwarts students.

"Why is he here?" Ginny asked.

"Security, apparently Fudge is really paranoid because the French Minister's daughter is here."

A round of whispers and wolf whistles spread about the hall, and they turned away from James Potter to see what the noise was about. This time it was Ginny staring in shock, Hermione seemed unable to keep her eyes off of the newcomer as well, but seemed to resist the temptation to drool better than the younger girl.

"What?" Ron said loudly, annoyed. "He's just a normal boy!"

Daniel had to disagree. The boy was unbelievably handsome. He had long blond hair that hung down in a way that looked styled by professionals. He only glim sped the face for a few seconds, but by the looks of it the boy had perfectly sculpted features that anyone would be proud of. That wasn't it though. The way he moved down the Hall was predatory, as if he knew that no-one could stop him from getting his way. The confidence that he carried himself with was pretty incredible, and the way he managed not to look arrogant while doing it was utterly amazing.

Dan looked around to see an almost fanatical look in some of the girls' eyes. One of the second year girls was practically undressing him with her eyes, and Lavender Brown looked as if Christmas had come early.

He shuddered, feeling a little sorry for the boy.

"Are there such things as male veela?" A fifth year asked.

There were whisperings and giggles at this, and apparently the boy heard, because he turned to her and _winked._ Dan didn't know anyone with that sort of confidence. The girl in question blushed and looked at her feet, cheeks a deep red.

"Of course there aren't." Hermione scowled, although she didn't look too sure about that.

Ginny had snapped out of it, and pointed at the Slytherin table, where the blond form of Malfoy had turned an angry red. Dan could see why, spotting Pansy's glazed look.

He _had _to meet the person who made Malfoy look like that.

This year was going to be so fun.

* * *

"You'd think that they would get tired of staring by now." Fleur remarked in French, as Aries took the seat on her left. Marie was already positioned on her right.

"Just act normal," he drawled, "They'll eventually notice something else, and we'll be forgotten." He looked around, seeing the feral looks towards the pair of them, and frowned. "Maybe not." He muttered.

Looking at the curious looks they were attaining from speaking in another language. She tilted her head to the left, looking at him. The message was pretty clear. _Do you want to talk with them?_

He nodded in agreement, and she relaxed, it would be pretty easy to stay out of people's stares when he held the conversation with his charming, flirtatious way of speaking, and visibly relaxed attitude.

It was all a lie, of course. Normally, she had been told, he would stay in the shadows, acting completely average unless his client required him to be different. For her, he'd explained, he would need to stand out, and take the attention away from her, as there was no way that she would ever be treated completely normally by the English students and teachers, being both a quarter veela and the daughter of the French Ministry of Magic. His job was to make sure that, when looking for someone in the ring of students, the watchers did not see her first.

And it worked well, she remarked, as barely anyone was glancing at her any more, as he attracted all the wandering eyes in the hall. Looking around, she shuddered at the amount of girls that looked like animals examining a meal. They didn't know that he was the predator.

That was the reason that he didn't take a second name, either. His entire attitude screamed '_pureblood fantasy_', and that would bring attention that would be drawn away from her. He'd also need to distance himself from Fleur more than he was in Beauxbatons. At least in public. She had no doubt that he'd keep his eye on her. For some reason, this made him a little happier than she should have been.

She shook her head, and began listening in on the conversation once more.

"So, tell me about the teachers here, the ones at our school are great, but I'd love to see what different points of view could do to expand our education." That was Aries. He'd obviously pressed all their buttons in mentioning that he wanted to learn, because the Ravenclaw students opened up even more than before.

"Well," began a witch with curly reddish-blond hair, " I'm Marietta Edgecombe, and Professor Flitwick is our head of House, he's the tiny one over there." She smiled and pointed to the diminutive man in question. "He's easily the nicest teacher in the school, and he lets us get away with mischief in class, as long as it doesn't keep us from learning. That doesn't mean he's incompetent." She added hastily. "He's a charms master and he used to be a Duelling champion! He's really protective though, he won't let anyone in his house come under harm if he knows about it."

"Professor McGonagall is the Transfiguration teacher." A pretty asian girl continued, "She's strict, but fair. Flitwick may have been the duelling champion, but McGonagall is easily the second most scary teacher in the school."

"Second most?" Aries asked, interested. Fleur was also intrigued, it was not normal for a teacher to be called 'scary'.

"Professor Snape, he's a-"

"Greasy git." One of the boys on the table interrupted. "He teaches potions, and he's a genius, but has no idea how to teach children, and he's the most biased teacher in the school."

Fleur's lip curled downward. She'd met that type of man, best to just stay quiet and hope that he ignored her. She mentally snorted, she was a Veela, and therefore blending in would not be an easy thing.

Their round of insult-the-teacher was cut short by the Headmaster standing.

"I hope our guest have enjoyed this meal." He spoke, and there was a murmur of agreement from the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables.

"As you all know, the Triwizard Tournament will be held here this year. This has been organised by Mr. Crouch, and Mr. Bagman here." There was a smattering of applause. "There will be three challenges, spread about the year, and they will test the champions in many different ways... their magical prowess – their daring – their powers of deduction – and, of course, their ability to deal with the danger created by the tournament.

There was only silence in the Hall.

"The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: The Goblet of Fire." At his words, a large casket was brought into the Hall, and inside it, was revealed a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been that there were blue flames dancing around the ring of the cup.

"Anyone, assuming that they are over the age of fourteen, wishing to submit themselves must write their name and school clearly on a piece of parchment, and drop it into the flames." He stated, his voice full of foreboding.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon those of you wishing to enter that this is not a decision to be made lightly. Once the Goblet has chosen a champion, he or she must see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the Goblet constitutes a magical, binding contract. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly ready to compete before you enter. Doing so without being of the correct ability will most likely cause very sever injuries for those involved."

No one breathed. The Hall was silent.

"Finally, I wish to announce that there will be a Duelling Tournament held this year, each school is allowed to enter eight students to this." He looked over all of them.

"I hope that you have a good night."

* * *

It is night.

The lights still shine out of the Beauxbatons carriages, and I can see the Hogwarts students through the lit windows of their respective towers.

I stand still, waiting for them to fade.

It take several minutes, but eventually the light flicker and fade, falling one by one as they slowly disappear, leaving only me, me and the stars.

There's a reason that I'm the best. A wand firing a curse is a scary thing. A resurrected curse too. A range of Dark Arts curses are some of the scariest things man had the folly to create. All of these might give you a pause, whether it be fear or caution. Until you realise what they are. They're all just ways to lose. To die. Nothing else matters, but above all: Do not lose the game.

That's the secret, and it amazes me to this day that no one else has realised it. It's a secret that I, and I alone, know.

I discovered about a year after I had escaped. I'd been seven. What an innocent age. What a foolish age.

I was staying with a family of werewolves, who'd taken in some orphans, myself included. It was a rainy day, and a dull one at that. I was the only one there, in the armoury. The father had been a weapon smith. Tom Leos had been his name, but everyone simply called him Big Tom. He'd almost ripped the door clean off it's edges in his hurry to get in. He only had time for me, as I was the only one in the room, attached by a side door. The others were in the living room, connected by the opposite door.

He threw me into the pile of scrap metal in the corner, a pile so thick, so full of jagged edges, so deep in the dark, that the men that followed hadn't wanted to search it. They were told that there was one more, but they assumed that there was a mistake.

I saw them kill Big Tom. Saw it in the few seconds of flickering light before all the torches blanked out. I saw them pull the family into the armoury, keen on testing Tom's work. Mother, as she'd insisted I call her, shrieked when she saw his body. She knew that I had been in the armoury too. She thought me dead.

I saw what they did to Mother, how long it took to kill her. I saw how they tortured five year Jan before ending him with his father's own sword. I'll admit that I had been rather fond of him, with his chubby looks and cheerful, innocent attitude. He'd been the first child that had accepted me for what I was. Since then I'd had to kill many a child, and evil ones at that.

I was only seven at the time, and foolishly tried to save them. But the steel held me tight, and the shadows concealed me. I've learned to appreciate steel since then, learned to be part of the shadows since then.

They taught me the game. They let me understand what all the grim and serious bounty hunters didn't know, what the insane killers didn't know, what the self-righteous Aurors didn't know. You can only when when you understand that it _is _a game. Let a man play chess. Tell him that every pawn is his friend. Let him think that they bishops are holy. Let him stay in his castle, happy, with his queen.

Watch him lose them all.

Watch his despair

Watch as you win.

Because I knew. I knew that every pawn was a potential enemy. I knew that bishops were as sinful as every other man. I knew that castles were not the fortresses the people made them out to be. I knew that a strong queen was essential.

It was after that day that I learned. And it was after that day that I knew.

* * *

**That was the most powerful piece of writing I've done in this story. God, I get this chills from reading this, and I was the one who wrote it. So, what do you think of this? Do you get the truth behind the joke that Aries told Fleur in... I think it was chapter seven, when they're on the rooftop. Anyway, I was wondering. What do you guys think? Please review!**


	10. Chapter 10 - Vampire, Werewolf, Mother

**Chapter 10 – Vampire, Werewolf, Mother**

**First off, sorry I posted this much later than normal, I just had lots of stuff to do, and this had to be pushed back a couple days in order to fix that. Secondly, all of you got half of my inside joke. Remember Aries joked that he'd been raised by Lions? The family's second name was Leos, and 'Leo' is the Latin for Lion. Hehe. Anyway, enjoy!**

Clarissa was bored.

She sat on her king sized bed, in her enormous mansion, in their family's home in Russia. She huffed. The rest of her family fit so well in the vampire cliché that it was almost sad. It was shown in the manor's decoration, all black corridors with plenty of scary statues and gargoyles to give a little flavour. They looked absolutely horrible, all ugly faces and enormous teeth. Was she the only one that knew how to have fun in this family? Well, fun that didn't involve killing lots of people. That got a little repetitive.

Her own room was much lighter, an oaken shade that gave the room a vintage look. There was a small library in the corner. On second thoughts, not that small. Where most people had a room, she practically had a small house inside a much larger house. She had a large desk, complete with charms to stop her from being under someone else's control while seated there. She carried clothing with the same charms, but you couldn't be too safe. She'd had a number of attempts on her life. Her family had left her to deal with it. It wasn't cruel, just how vampires lived, and her family wanted her to be the best. She wasn't, not by a long shot, but considering she got on well with the best, she'd gladly settle for being second.

She wondered how Harry – _Aries –_ managed it. And why did he even do it? He was richer than even her, and she was the product of uniting two of the most powerful vampire houses currently in existence. She had a theory that he enjoyed being in danger. An adrenaline junkie, so to speak. He might act cold and professional, but she _knew _that there was a reason for him being in that line of work for a reason other than politics, or gaining a`llies, or gaining information. She was sure that he took pleasure in being in the line of fire.

It was strange that they got on so well. Strange that she was his only friend. To be fair, the first time that they'd met, at nine years old, he'd manipulated her into giving him a book on bloodmagic in exchange for practice in magic. One thing had led to another – exchanges of information, favours, anything in that regard – and soon they were firm friends. Well, not quite. Neither of them was particularly trusting, and it had taken another three years before they felt relaxed around each other. He was thirteen when he began acting human around her. He was also thirteen when he'd showed her that he wasn't human. He was, but not completely.

She didn't like to mention it, but she had been scared at first when he'd lowered his disguise. He'd modified a blood ward usually used for covering injuries. A few runic arrangements for _'human' _and _'body' _along with a few for disguise had created a second skin, which he used more often than his real look.

Not that he was _completely _different when he was undisguised. His teeth were longer and sharper than most. He had also developed a preference for red meats, and now favoured them when they were undercooked, but his new organs didn't restrict his diet in any other way. His hair had the highlights usually found on a male basilisk just above the head. His were a deep red, which made it look like someone had spilled paint in it.

Or Blood.

Speaking of blood, that was one of the most notable things that had changed. He had become pretty magically resistant against spells preformed by anyone other than himself, as was the case with the snake he'd gotten that particular ability from. It was also highly acidic. And by highly, she meant _really _acidic, like _melt through most soft rocks _acidic. She pitied the vampire who decided to try take a bite out of him. He'd mentioned at the Blood Moon Inn that there was a counter venom to his blood, but it was hardly something she could research. She couldn't exactly go to her parents and ask how to detoxify the blood of a hybrid teenage-human-and-thousand-year-old-magical-snake. It was hardly something she could find in a book either.

The other important change was his eyes. They'd glowed, emitting a light that was not natural, and it annoyed him to no end. He could be seen by anyone at night, and that made his work extremely difficult. That particular aspect had been the first thing he'd changed in his appearance. He could handle looking like a monster, but he couldn't handle being unprofessional.

She snorted, how typical of him.

She had a theory that he'd probably get some of the abilities that basilisks had, such as a literal killer stare and the ability to, for lack of a better word, _taste _magic.

He'd always known what objects were dark or not before he touched or in some cases, _saw _them. It had been innocent at the time, but after a while she'd wondered how this boy automatically what kind of items were cursed, or if a button was actually a portkey, or a range of other peculiar things.

Speaking of the devil, noise began to come out of from her earrings, the chirping of crickets and the screeching of nocturnal birds.

"_Hello? Clarissa? Is this working?"_

"It's working alright." She replied with a grin on her face.

"_And how clear is the sound quality?" _She sighed at his perfectionist attitude.

"Crystal. Feels like you're in the same room, although with the positioning it sounds like you're behind me."

"_Hmm, I guess we can fix that soon, but there are other matters at hand." _Her interest was piqued.

"With what?"

"_Can you hop to my hideout?"_

His hideout. Known to only two people on the planet. A treasure trove with the wealth of a large city, or even a small country. Filled with incredible amounts of information. She activated her portkey, and found herself in a dark room, four unremarkable walls with nothing but a basin and a knife in the room between them. Taking the knife, she made a small cut in her finger and allowed a few drops of blood to drop. As soon as they made contact, there was a smooth sliding sound, like a sword being sheathed into a scabbard.

In a completely different style to the entrance hall, the corridor that it led into was completely steel grey, and covered with so many wards that they made the metal walks glow with the amount of magic running through them, and a faint hum of power permeated the otherwise silent hideout. She hummed to herself as she strolled down the hallway.

Most metals were notoriously difficult to both ward and cast other magics on, as they had a form of resistance to magic. They conducted magic very poorly, and this was the reason that less sturdy material of wood was often used as a focus to preform magical feats. Iron was one of the more magical resistant metals, and in it's pure form could prevent almost all means of seeing through materials. If it did not weigh so much, and if it didn't break so easily, than it would have been a suitable material for making good armour. Featherweight charms weren't an option, as a simple _finite _could completely destroy one's hope in a fight.

These walls were not made of iron. Creating an entire complex the size of a small castle had cost an extreme amount of money, but it was worth it according to Aries. Clarissa didn't see the point of needing such powerful wards if they were already under the fidelus, but apparently there were magics that could penetrate even that. Silver was a metal commonly used in alchemy due to it's high magic potential.

And Clarissa could see it. Literally. She possessed a gift known as 'mage sight' which allowed her to _see _magic. She could see the layering of wards, or the enhancements added to objects. The mage sight that was commonly added to goggles in order to be used by professional ward creators and curse breakers only showed things in different shades of grey, and therefore the type of ward could only be guessed by it's shade, pattern, and how strong of a glow it emitted. For her, wards of an intricate complex of rainbows, warped around a variety of brightnesses that glowed with power. To be honest, it was breathtaking. Beautiful.

"_Are you there?" _Aries' voice interrupted her musings.

"Yes, what do you want?"

"_Can you go to the information room and pull out a couple files for me?"_

The information room was practically a library. They already had a library, but the information room was a little more specialised. All the files were organised alphabetically, and there were probably tens of thousands of them. The room was predominantly used to find out things about people, as she guessed he was asking her to do.

"What do you need?"

"_Get me the Wizengamot votes of Dumbledore and his pawns from the last fifteen years."_

Moving to the cabinet marked 'votes', which was enlarged on the inside to become a small room, she navigated her way to the subsection of 'Wizengamot' and came to the very large folders of 'Dumbledore' and 'Dumbledore supporters'. Opening the folders, she skimmed through them, and her eyes widened in surprise.

"_Well?" _Aries interrupted once more.

"I think you need to see this yourself."

* * *

Remus Lupin was bitter.

He'd been an angry, bitter man since his former best friends had neglected their child to the point of him having to run away. Remus had taught Harry to read, and although Harry had gone though the material at record pace, Remus still held fond memories of teaching the young child how to read.

He'd been beyond angry when he returned to Potter Manor and didn't find the eldest son there. He had been furious. And when he cast a spell to find out that it had happened three days ago and the Potters hadn't noticed, he had come to blows with James, and reminded him why he was a werewolf by slamming him against the wall. He had vowed to never return unless Harry was found, and he had kept to that vow almost a decade later.

He still wasn't sure about teaching at Hogwarts. Albus had tried to give him the Defense Against the Dark Arts job the year before, but he had refused and the job was taught by a retired hit wizard who had suffered a heart attack two days before the end of the year and was forced to retire. The reason that he didn't want to go was because of the Muggle Studies Professor, Lily Potter.

Albus had promised that he'd tell Lily to stop if she began harassing him, and that was the only reason that he was going. That and the fact that he loved to teach. He'd wanted to teach since he left Hogwarts, but the amount of people willing to hire a werewolf to a tutor was very low, and he had been forced to work a variety of jobs to earn money. It wasn't enough money, as one could tell by looking at his threadbare robes, or the fact that he'd left his brown hair to grow long.

He certainly looked more like a werewolf than he had when he'd last seen the Potters. Along with the long hair, he'd built up muscles from doing heavy labour to earn money. He was much stronger than the average man, and he no longer attempted to deny his wolfish tendencies, allowing the fact that Moony was as much part of him as Remus was.

Remus had always enjoyed history. He planned to make the students he taught enjoy it too. The idea of knowing what had happened hundreds, even thousands of years ago was something he found amazing, and he had hundreds of lesson plans already to accompany the few lessons he'd already given.

He just hoped the year wasn't too eventful.

* * *

Lily Potter was depressed.

She had held a foolish hope that Harry was still alive, and attending either Durmstrang or Beauxbatons, and that she'd been able to see her son there. She hadn't.

Neither Beauxbatons or Durmstrang held a messy black-haired boy with glasses and green eyes. Neither Beauxbatons or Durmstrang held her son. Neither Beauxbatons or Durmstrang could stop her nightmares.

She didn't even know why she'd neglected her eldest son. She had just never noticed him, quiet as he was, and she'd always been occupied with her youngest son. Pride was a sinful thing.

She went to get a drink.

**So that's that, sorry not much happened there, but rest assured that the next chapter will contain the Goblet of Fire and the Dueling Teams. Also, bear with me with Albus. He's a good guy, but he has a problem that sometimes affects how he thinks. I won't reveal any more, as spoilers are equally bad as bad stories.**

**P.S. Bastille and 'The Sound You Need' have the best music for writing stories. In my opinion at least.**

EDIT: Just fixed the 'youngest' son thing. I really need a beta.  



	11. Chapter 11 - Champions and Wrackspurts

**Chapter 11 – Champions and Wrackspurts**

**Sorry for taking so long to upload, but I had some stuff to do. I hope that this chapter will appease you.**

"Hello Harry!" A chirpy voice from behind me breaks the silence. I do not know what is more troubling: The fact that she could see through my disillusionment charm with little effort, or the fact that she knows my real name.

"I fear that you are mistaken... Miss Lovegood I believe? My name is Aries." I caught a mention of her at dinner last night, in a tone that didn't seem friendly.

"That's alright." She replies as if I haven't said anything. "Why does your skin glow gold? And why are your teeth so sharp? Are you a Wackspurt?"

Now I was really confused. Blood magic usually made the runes inscribed on the flesh glow gold for some time after, it depended on the ward, but it was normally around a week. The fact that she could so easily pierce the veil that I had on, as well as the glamours that protected my... less desirable features, made me very uncomfortable.

"What are you doing out here, Miss Lovegood?" I decide to get to the heart of the matter.

"I was looking for Wackspurts, but I think I've found one now." She nodded to herself. "I didn't think that Wackspurts had names, but I suppose it's expected, as they do bear some resemblances to Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. Snorkacks are very intelligent. I met a Snorkack named George in Sweden. Unfortunately I couldn't get a picture, as they're very shy."

I take a step back and examine her. She's a rather pretty girl, to be honest, with long golden hair and well shaped features. She has a pair of earrings that look rather like turnips, and she wears a pair of pink, large rimmed glasses that have lenses that constantly change colour and swirl. She's wearing most of her school uniform, along with a necklace made of butterbeer corks. She has no shoes or socks on, but looks completely comfortable outside even without them. Her Ravenclaw tie is backwards, and she is wearing a jumper that is two sizes too big.

"And why, Miss Lovegood, are you not wearing all of your uniform?"

"That would be the Nargles." She nods sagely, as if confirming some well known fact. To her it probably is.

"And what, pray tell, is a Nargle?" Her face morphs into one of shock, as if I had asked what colour the sky was, or what country we were in.

"Nargles are nasty little things," she lectures, "They're quite the little thieves, and they will steal your things away if they think they can get away with it. They're particularly fond of shoes, and they sometimes even take homework if they think they need it. I suspect that they make nests out of the stuff." I clench my fist. "If you'd like, I can preform a Nargle repelling ritual on your things."

"Would these Nargles look like some of the people you know? Some of the Ravenclaws perhaps?" My voice betrays no anger, but I am internally furious. Hate is one of the few emotions that I have mastered. I've had plenty of experience.

Luna shrugs, eyebrows creasing in thought.

"I've never really checked." She admits. "To me, Nargles are just Nargles."

"Would you like to go to breakfast with me?" I ask, my tone light. "I'll catch up with you in a minute or two."

* * *

Fleur woke early, wiping the tiredness from her eyes as she looked around the carriage that housed seven other sleeping students. With space expanding charms, the carriage had become the size of a small house, something that Fleur was very grateful for. She showered and got dressed on her Beauxbatons uniform, humming to herself as she did so.

She shivered as she stepped outside, cool air brushing her still wet skin. A shimmer in the air, and Aries stepped out of seemingly thin air. _A disillusionment charm_, her mind reminded her. Aries slept in a different coach, as they were organised by gender.

"How long have you been there?" She spoke in French.

"Long enough." Was his short reply.

"You can't have slept much, you were still up when I went to sleep."She remarked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Your safety is more important that my comfort, Miss Delacour." His tone was flat. "Shall we go to breakfast."

"Yes." And with that, he began to stride towards the entrance of Hogwarts, with Fleur in tow.

The Hall was far emptier than it had been during the night of the announcement, and there weren't as many Ravenclaws seated at the breakfast table, a few having brought books or scraps of parchments with them as they ate. She preferred it that way, as it was easier to ignore the stares if there weren't any stares.

Aries was still ahead of her, and had taken a seat next to a small, dainty looking girl that looked rather zoned out. The table was perhaps half full, but the area around her was much emptier than anywhere else on the table.

"Hello Luna, how are you today?" Aries asked, his tone easygoing.

_That _annoyed her. Aries was always so professional with her, and her still called her 'Miss Delacour'. Now this girl, who they hadn't known for more than a day, had instantly become on first-name terms with him. Veela were very possessive creatures, and her heritage made her angry with the innocent looking girl seated beside _her _bodyguard.

"Hello Mister Wackspurt." the girl replied, smiling at him. "I made you a necklace, it will keep the Nargles away."

There were a few snickers from the Ravenclaws who had slid closer in order to stare at the two Beauxbatons students. Aries simply ignored them, smiling brilliantly at her. Fleur was conflicted, she had experience of being ostracised by everyone else, and the girl before her didn't look like she was able to fight back like Fleur had done.

Aries slipped on the necklace, so that it was mostly hidden from sight beneath his robes, but still visible so that one could still see it if they were looking for that thing in particular. The snickering stopped.

Luna smiled at him gratefully.

* * *

It is part of my self restraint that allows me to look in the eyes of one of the people I hate the most and smile as if we're friends.

He has his father's messy hair, but in his mother's shade of red. His almond eyes come from his father. I have often wished the owner of those eyes to die, and make sure that I never meet them again. My jaw clenches slightly, but I was prepared for this. Why would I have accepted this job if I wasn't ready to confront my past.

A give him a thorough look. He is a handsome boy, if I am being honest, having adopted James Potter's rugged looks. Last time I saw him, he also shared his father's arrogance. He sticks a hand out, and I refrain from sneering at his impoliteness.

We are seated in the potions lab, and I have been forced to follow the Gryffindor timetable by Albus Dumbledore, no doubt wishing for me to be an ego boost to the Boy-Who-Lived. I managed to evade Potter and his two little followers the two previous lessons by sitting as far as possible from them as possible.

"Daniel Potter, pleased to meet you." His voice still carries the arrogance that permeated it when we were younger. It is not as strong, but it is till there.

"Aries." Comes my reply. I'm hoping that something will come to prevent me from having to socialise with the person that utterly ruined my life. That something comes in the form of a darkly dressed, sneering professor.

I move away from the students clad in red and gold, but my light blue uniform hardly helps me blend in.

"Ten points to Slytherin for looking attentive, Miss Parkinson." He sneers at the Gryffindor group, and Dan ducks his head to avoid the gaze of the man who I can see pure loathing on. I think that I will like the potions tutor.

He turns to me, still sneering, although the hate does not seem to be as strong as it is for my estranged twin. Perhaps it is because he thinks I'm French.

"I seem to recall that you are the only foreign student not in the sixth or seventh form." His voice is assertive and aggressive at the same time. "I do not know how good the French potion masters are. Perhaps a test is in order?" Perhaps it _is _because he thinks I'm French.

"Your name?"

"Aries Sir, just Aries."

"Is that so? A very... pureblood name, that is."

"Yes, Sir."

"Very well, Mister Aries, give me the ingredients of an occulus potion." The bushy haired brunette girl that follows Potter like a lost puppy throws her hand in the air.

"Wormwood, stewed mandrake, ground unicorn horn, and crystallised water, Sir."

"And what is the use of the potion?"

"It can restore a drinker's sight, or be used as a counter to a conjunctivitis curse, Sir."

"Skele-grow potion, Mister Aries." The brunette once again reaches as high as she can, as though Snape will let her answer.

"Regrows or fixes bones, contains Chinese chomping cabbage, puffer-fish, and scarab beetles."

"Wit sharpening potion, Mister Aries."

"Allows drinker to think more clearly, contains ground scarab beetles, ginger roots, and armadillo bile."

"Twenty points to Slytherin! Now for something a little harder, Mister Aries: Wiggenweld potion!"

I frown, that _is _quite a difficult one. For most people. Even the girl who has been holding her hand up for everything has hesitantly lowered it.

"One pint of Horklump juice, two drops of Flobberworm Mucus, seven Chizpurfle fangs, Billywig sting slime, A sprig of mint, Boom Berry juice, one stewed mandrake, three drops of honeywater, sloth brain mucus, two moondew drops, salamander blood, ten lionfish spines, a unicorn horn, and wolfsbane." I take a breath, "Potion is used to wake a person from a magically-induced sleep, such as the Drought of Living Death."

"Very impressive, Mister Aries." Snape commends me, surprise evident. "Name three ways in which one can increase the effectiveness of polyjuice."

"The shredded boomslang skin should not be too fine, normal recipies say that a brass chauldron will require sixty eight minutes of heating after being stirred three times clockwise, but heating it for sixty three after stirring four times clockwise and one time anti clockwise will work better."

"And the third way?"

"I'm afraid I can't find one, professor."

"That is because it is a trade secret. Very good Mister Aries, you may sit with Miss Greengrass this lesson, and eighty points to Slytherin for those answers."

He has put me in a position of strength. I will not neglect it.

I will play my pieces.

* * *

Fleur walked up to the goblet. To be honest, this was not what she thought of when she heard the word 'goblet'. It was such a simple thing that it looked out of place in the gothic castle. To her, the word 'goblet' meant a chalice, something that would hold something of great value, something like the Holy Grail, that would give long life.

To her, the Goblet of Fire was simply a cup. A cup that stood well over a metre high, a cup that probably weighed the same as a dozen of her classmates, but a cup nonetheless.

The wooden cup looked roughly hewn out of a great block of wood, using whatever tools they had had at the time. It was covered in arcane runes that she hadn't covered in Ancient Runes and probably never would. Still, it made the goblet look a bit less like something that could be picked up in a pawn shop, and she was grateful because of that.

The fire swallowed the piece of paper that contained her name, scrawled on in her elegant script.

She walked back to her favourite brown haired witch, a small smile playing on her lips.

"What took you so long?" Marie asked.

It was true, it was practically the final hour that she could have put her name in, and half of the students had wondered if she would do it at all. She'd asked Aries about it, but he'd told her that it was not his place to tell her what to do unless it was something stupid.

Speak of the devil, the boy had returned from his potions lesson. She didn't like the potions master at Hogwarts at all, he was a sneering, hateful bully in her opinion. A small blonde haired girl skipped behind him, a dreamy smile on her face. Fleur didn't know what to think of her. On one had, the girl was a little crazy, believing in a host of magical creatures that no-one else had ever seen hide nor hair of.

On the other hand, the small girl was adorable, funny, and clever. She didn't have many – if any – friends, and she suspected that Aries, who had only known her for about a week, was the closest thing that she'd had to a friend. Over that time, she'd practically been adopted by the Beuxbatons contingent, like a younger sister to everyone in the French school.

Fleur knew why this had happened. The English school's system had failed her. She was clever and therefore had been placed in Ravenclaw. The problem was that her house mates were a studious, serious lot, and Luna's bubbly, zoned out attitude hadn't helped her case very much at all. She'd been bullied before the first year had even fully started, and from there it was a downhill slope.

That wasn't to say that Beauxbatons was perfect. Fleur herself had been bullied fro not being fully human, but at least she'd had the aura to protect her. Luna was just a regular girl, despite her noticeable quirkiness.

She and Marie switched to English for Luna's sake, although Fleur suspected that she knew it anyway.

"Eet iz not much to look at, is it? Rather ugly if you ask me." Marie greeted them.

"I think zat wood was ze only material that they had at the time, non?" Fleur responded.

"That and something else, because it's a little more complicated." Aries, as always, had the answer. "Wood channels magic better than most materials, same reason that wands are made of wood. I suppose that it could have been made of silver, but it wouldn't have lasted more than a century, and it would require a huge amount of it, as transfigured silver wouldn't work at all. If they'd made it out of steel or iron it wouldn't last the year."

"Zat makes sense." Marie nodded her head, and Aries smiled.

"How do you zink ze goblet works?" Fleur asked. She was worried about her non-human status preventing her from entering.

"You mean how does it choose?" She nodded. "I have no idea, and I have no intentions of finding out, seeing as those red-haired twins now have beards twice as large as Dumbledore's."

They all chuckled.

"I know how the goblet works." Luna chirped.

They all turned to stare at her.

"You do?"

"Of course!" Luna rolled her eyes. "The goblet is home to some Whizzing Fizzwhappers, and they decide who is the best for the task. It's quite simple actually."

Marie giggled, and Fleur sighed. Aries only raised an eyebrow in response.

"Of course, the Whizzing Fizzwhappers are natural allies to Wackspurts, so if you'd entered, you would have been the champion." She said, looking at him.

This time he smiled.

"Do you mind if I have a word with Luna, Miss Delacour?" He asked her.

"Of course not." She replied, but inwardly she really didn't want to see her bodyguard go. Or was it that she didn't want him being alone with the only girl that he called by name.

* * *

Padma Patil watched was the handsome French boy walked off with Luna, and followed them. She was curious about the boy who had brought so much attention, and the girl who was a victim of bullies in her house.

Padma hadn't bullied her, but at the same time, hadn't stopped them. She felt bad about that, but it was an act of self-preservation more than anything else.

Aries and Luna stopped in a corridor, it wasn't empty, but neither was it crowded.

"This corridor is infected with Nargles." Came Luna's voice.

Padma spied Aries glancing at a few fellow Ravenclaws. She frowned, why had that statement made him wary of her house mates? He turned back to her Luna.

"That doesn't matter right now, remember what we were talking about earlier?" Padma couldn't help feeling a little jealous that the younger girl got on so well with Aries.

"The best place to find Wackspurts." Luna nodded her head. Padma felt a little for the boy that had to speak to her despite her inane comments. But to her surprise, he just agreed with her.

"Right, remember where that is?"

"Seventh Floor corridor, by the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy!" Luna did a little dance on the spot.

"Let's go then."

Padma followed them, surprised as they went through a painting and appeared on the sixth floor. How much did this boy know? Luna just skipped along, and Padma had to hang back to avoid any backwards glances. She scurried along the corridor as they went up the stairs and turned to the left, so she followed, seeing -

Nothing.

Where had they gone?

There was the tapestry that Luna was talking about, but Luna and the boy were nowhere to be found.

Then it hit her: code words! Luna had replaced some words with others when she had had that conversation in the corridor.

One thing was clear – Luna Lovegood was for more that anyone thought she was.

* * *

Daniel Potter was excited.

When he'd entered the candlelit Great Hall it was almost full. The Goblet of fire had been moved; it was now standing in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the teacher's table. Fred and George sat by them, grins on their faces.

The feast seemed to take much longer than it normally did. Perhaps because it was so soon since the feast they'd had to welcome the other schools. Dan didn't seem to fancy the rich food as much as he normally would have. Like everyone else in the Hall, judging by the constantly craning necks, the impatient expressions on every face, the fidgeting, and the glaring at Dumbledore so that he would finish eating, Dan simply wanted to the tables to clear, and to hear who had been selected as champions.

When the golden plates disappeared, there was a sharp increase in the noise level of the hall, which died away very quickly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Igor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense as everyone else. Mr. Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost reaching into boredom.

"When the champions' names are called, I would ask them to please come to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, then go through the next chamber" – he indicated the door behind the staff table - "where they will be receiving their instructions."

He took out his wand and made a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except for a few were extinguished, leaving the Hall in a state of semi darkness.

"Any second now!" The beardless Weasley twins said as one.

The flames inside the goblet suddenly turned red, and sparks began to fly from it. A moment later, a tongue of flame shot into the air, and a charred piece of paper fluttered out of it.

Dumbledore caught it at arms length.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he read in a clear, strong voice, "will be Viktor Krum!"

"No surprises there!" Ron yelled as a storm of applause swept the Hall. Dan watched Krum rise from the Slytherin table and slouch up towards Dumbledore; turning to walk into the next chamber.

A second piece of paper shot out of the goblet as it once more turned red, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons." read Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

The Hall cheered as the beautiful girl gracefully stood, shook back her silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again. The excitement for the Hogwarts champion was so real it could be felt in the air.

And the Goblet of fire turned red once more, sparks shot out of it, the tongue of fire shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

"The Hogwarts Champion," He called, "Is Cedric Diggory!"

Nobody heard anything else for a few seconds as the uproar from the next table was too great. Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and shouting, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore shouted happily as at last the tumult died down. "Well, now we have our three champions. I am sure that I can count upon all of you, including the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, to give everyone once of your support that you can muster to your champions. By cheering them on, you will contribute in a very real -"

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and everyone could see what had distracted him.

The fire in the goblet had just turned red once more. Sparks flew out of it. A long flame shot spectacularly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

Dumbledore, as if he had expected it, reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name. There was a long pause.

Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands.

Everyone else in the room stared at Dumbledore.

And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out -

"_Daniel Potter."_

**All of those potions and their recipes are REAL CANON Harry Potter potions and recipes, check the wiki if you don't believe me. I'd also like to welcome Luna as a more important character, because she's so much funner than anyone else to write. Next chapter will be dealing with the topic of many of your questions - Dumbledore.  
**


	12. Chapter 12 - The Dumbledore Dilemma

**Chapter 12 – The Dumbledore Dilemma**

**First of all, I'd like to apologize that my update came so late. It's been eleven days since the last, and I apologize for that, but I've had a lot of work to do lately and there's unfortunately a good chance that the next few updates will take a similar amount of time, but definitely under a fortnight each. After that though, around the second half of July through to September, I'll have lots of time to write. That being said, I'm still looking for either a) A beta, or b) Someone to bounce ideas with, so if you know anyone who you think will be good for that, please contact me. ENJOY!**

Dan sat there, faintly aware that every head in the Great Hall had turned to look at him. He was stunned. He felt numb. He was dreaming. He had not heard correctly.

There was no applause. A buzz of angry mutterings, sounding like a swarm of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall.

He stared at his best friends, looking them in the eyes.

"I didn't put my name in." He said, surprised he could speak with a mouth so dry. "You guys know that, right?"

Neither of them answered, they just stared just as blankly back.

At the staff table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonnagall.

"Daniel Potter!" He called once more. "Daniel! Up here if you please!"

Dan got to his feet, stumbling slightly on the hem of his robes, and set off up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. It felt far longer that it probably was, and the table he was heading towards didn't seem to be getting any nearer, and he could feel hundreds of eyes upon him, each with the intensity of a spotlight. The buzzing grew louder and louder, until was was a constant drone. After what felt like an hour but what was probably only a minute, he was right in front of Dumbledore.

"Through the door, Daniel." Dan didn't know how the old man had taken this in his stride. He truly seemed unflappable.

As he walked into the room, he spotted Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour huddled against the fire. They looked oddly impressive, silhouetted against the flames. Krum was hunched up and brooding, leaning against the mantelpiece and distanced from the other two. Cedic stood closest to the fire, hands behind his back, gazing into the roaring flames. Fleur was the one that saw him first, sitting on the couch as she threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair.

"What is it?" She asked. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"

Daniel was not normally a timid person. He'd inherited his father's calm under pressure, and it had paid off in normal school life, but the shock of being chosen had made him tongue tied and he had lost his normal charm that could normally get him out of even his mother's angry moods. He stood there, looking at the three champions, and felt rather small and inadequate.

There was a scurrying sound behind him, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He took Dan's arm and pulled him forward.

"Extraordinary!" he muttered, squeezing Dan's arm. "Absolutely extraordinary!" Gentlemen – and lady, of course – may I introduce, incredible as it may seem, the _fourth _Triwizard champion?"

Krum's bored gaze became very sharp there, staring Dan up and down. Cedric looked nonplussed. Fleur Delacour, however, just tossed her hair and smiled.

"Vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."

"Joke?" Bagman repeated, slightly surprised. "No, no, no, I am being completely serious."

Krum's eyebrows contracted slightly. Cedric still looked rather bewildered.

"But zen zair 'as been a mistake!" Fleur frowned as Dan as she spoke, rather comptentuously to Bagman. "'E cannot compete. 'E is too young."

The door behind them opened again, and a swarm of people entered: Professor Dumbledore, followed by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonnagal, and Professor Snape. Dan heard the buzzing continuing in the Great Hall before the door was closed rather abruptly.

"Madame Maxime!" Fleur half shouted to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zis leetle boy is to compete too!"

The insult created a ripple of anger that kicked his brain into action, but at that moment Madame Maxime drew herself to her full height and stomped over to Dumbledore.

"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?

"I would rather like to know that myself." Karkaroff added, wearing a steely smile, but his eyes her cold and angry. "I don't remember Hogwarts being allowed more than one champion in the rules – or have I not read them carefully enough?"

He gave a short, nasty laugh.

"It is no one's fault but Potter's Karkaroff," Snape said softly. His black eyes were alight with malice. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules, he has been crossing lines since he arrived-"

"I can swear a magical oath." Dan interrupted him.

All heads turned towards him.

"I'm sorry, Daniel?" P rofessor Dumbledore asked.

"I can swear on my magic that I didn't put my name in, can't I?"

The venerable teachers traded looks.

"I had not thought of that, Daniel. You may do so."

"I, Daniel Ignotus Potter, swear on my life and magic, that I did not, willingly or unwillingly, place my name into the Goblet of Fire, so mote it be." He took a deep breath, and when he didn't drop dead, whispered the spell.

"Lumos."

A bright ball of light protruded from his wand, and he breathed a sigh of releif. Everyone in the room traded confused expressions.

"If that is the case," Karkaroff expoded, "then Durmstrang will not be compteting in this tournament!"

"Empty threat, Karkaroff." Growled a voice from the door. "You can't leave now. They've got to compete with that binding magical contract. Convenient, eh?"

Moody had entered the room. He limped towards the fire, his leg giving a loud _clunk_ after every other step he took.

"Convenient?" asked Karkaroff. "I fail to see what you are saying, Moody."

"Don't you? It's simple. Someone put Potter's name in knowing that he would need to compete if they did."

"Someone wanting to give 'Ogwarts two bites of ze apple!" said Madame Maxime.

"If you haven't noticed, it's not like Potter's particularly happy about this."

"And why should 'e complain?" Fleur Delacour burst out, stamping her foot. "'E 'as ze chance to compete now, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen! Zis is somezing may would die for!"

"Exactly!" Moody roared. "Someone's hoping to kill Potter, and they've found themselves an easy way of doing it."

Dan paled.

* * *

I was not at the feast at that time, watching curiously with the other students, wondering how Daniel Potter had managed to get himself into the tournament.

Or rather, I had been, so I was both there and not there at the same time, with the help of a handy time turner. Either way, I am in the Hideout, about to meet Clarissa about the things she wanted me to see. And the troubling things about the Headmaster that I had seen.

She walks up to me, with hands full of heavy papers, wearing a black strapless dress that contrasts against her pale skin. The pile has to be the better part of a foot high, and she doesn't react to my raised eyebrow, asking why she would need so many different files.

"This," she says, taking off more than half of the pile, "is the voting records. I've shorted it into this sheet of paper." she hands it to me and I skim through it and frown.

"One second," I'm confused. "You say this is_ Dumbledore's _records? You know, leader of the 'Light' Dumbledore?"

"Yes!" she replies. "I've been confused by this since I saw them."

And there's a reason that we are both flummoxed. The first few are exactly as one would expect, pro-muggleborn, pro-magical creatures, pro-whatever is expected from the leader of the light. But there are a few... anomalies. The first of these is a few years after his duel with Grindelwald, but they become more common as time goes on. The current ones are focused on gaining access to abandoned vaults, as well as giving the people less rights. It's pretty disturbing to say the least.

"So, we're assuming that the change happened because of something to do with either the duel or the defeat of Grindelwald?" I ask, speaking my thoughts aloud.

"That's right," She replies, "The first anomaly was recorded in 1951, seven years after the duel in question." I nod my head. "What do you think that you'll have to do about this?" She's a little nervous about the prospect of being against Dumbledore if she can help it.

"Nothing, if I can help it." She frowns for a second, and I explain. "I'm not the type of person to go out and attempt to save wizarding Britain, and I have no chance against Dumbledore in a duel. He has a lot more power than I have, and he's clever with how he uses it. The only advantage I have is that I play unfair, and that he'll be surprised at how good I am, but I'm not about to go against every ideal I have by attacking someone so far above my calibre."

"And you need to complete your assignment."

"That's true, as long as Dumbledore doesn't hurt my client I have no need to confront him in any way. Hopefully he'll keep to himself, and we'll finish the year with him none the wiser."

"That's a good idea," she agrees, "You're amazing for your age, but Dumbledore must be almost ten times older than you, and has for more experience and power in both legal and magical circles."

"Yes, that's what I thought." I lift my wand to my temple, drawing out a silvery strand of memory. "I have something to show you."

* * *

Clarissa looked around the memory of the Great Hall. It was rather impressive, seeing as she'd never been there before. The hall was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair above the sudents. The tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. She looked up and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. It was impressive spellwork.

The students were seated along four long tables that stretched from one side of the Hall to the other, leaving a small space for the teacher's table, where Dumbledore sat on his throne-like chair. Memory-Harry was eating his meal with the Delacour girl. Although most people didn't see it, she could tell he was looking for threats, and his wand was just up his sleeve.

"Watch Dumbledore." The real Harry spoke beside her.

"I am." She responded.

"It'll happen soon, just pay attention."

Dumbledore was tall and thin, with silver hair and a long beard that could be tucked into his belt. He had a long and crooked nose that had apparently been broken more than once. His eyes were a brilliant, soul piercing shade of blue that twinkled in hidden amusement. He wore half moon spectacles, and in his typically flamboyant style, a bright red set of robes.

Then she saw it.

The older man stiffened, and his eyes became cold and narrowed. His long fingers clenched his goblet tightly and the hint of a sneer crossed his face before it was wiped off.

Clarissa was shocked.

It was like a completely different person had appeared in the Headmaster's chair.

She took Harry's hand, and they left the memory.

Once they had left his memory, she spoke her thoughts aloud.

"What the hell is going on?"

* * *

The old man in question was currently in his office, with a very similar question in mind.

The handwriting on the scrap of paper had not been his.

Someone else had put Daniel's name into the Goblet, and that could not do. It seemed that Alastor's suspicions very well might have an aspect of truth to them.

He didn't know why he'd even put Daniel's name in the Goblet. Perhaps he should try to find a loophole to get him out. That may be the-

No!

Gellert- No, he was Albus, he reminded himself, stood up in his office, looking as his Phoenix, the symbol of light, flew away in something akin to terror.

He would find out who was attempting to harm his pawn, and he would bring Hell upon them.

**Well, isn't that something to think about? Please review, I read them all. Every single one of your 216 review has been read with a smile on my face. Well, the ones that aren't questioning my mental health or other flames. I'm also thinking of doing a second story simultaneously over the Summer, so there's that to look forward (Hopefully) to.  
**

**WhereTheWindBlows signing out.**


	13. Chapter 13 - Memories of a Monster

**Chapter 13 – Memories of a Monster**

**Slightly darker chapter here. I thought you may want to know about Harry's past.**

_It was the day that my foster family died. I was hung on the scrap metal that Tom had thrown me in to save me. I wondered if he had killed me in doing so._

_I saw them as they walked in, holy men that the family had been rather fond of. The family was easy to find, their blood was splattered along the walls, killed by the things that were Big Tom's living._

"_By God! They're all dead!" The men turned the woman that thought herself my mother over. "Gently! Show some respect-" He broke off with a gasp. The killers hadn't left her pretty._

_I couldn't see them find Little Jan, but I heard it, by the silence that spread over them. I let my head fall back as I watched to dark blood drip onto the steel around me._

"_Ah, hell." One of the men finally spoke. It was sacrilege, but finding a five year old child dead gave them a little leeway._

"_Where's Harry?" The other asked. I'd only seen them a few times, but they knew who I was._

"_They've taken him hostage, I reckon."_

_He was almost right. I was being held against my will for sure._

_My body was on fire from the hooks of hundreds of pieces of metal digging into my skin. A dry groan escaped me. My lips parted as skin tore._

_And then they found me._

"_There's something here!" I heard him shout. He cursed as he cut his hands on the scrap. "Quickly, pull this away."_

_I heard the groaning of men and the screeching of steel as I was exposed to them._

"_Dead." One of the men said bitterly. "He's so white."_

_I guess that the steel near bled me dry._

_They took me and dropped me onto the cart, for the long journey to the church. I did not sleep as the sky became black. I watched the darkness settling in, and thought._

_The head of the church was there; a mean, angry man named Father Brom. He was a thin man, yet his gaze was intimidating and almost cruel. He was fond of the Hell-and-Brimstone scriptures._

"_Those knives are cleaned, I hope?" The man carrying me asked, indicating the long knives that Father Brom held in his hands._

"_It is the purity of the spirit that will clean the knives, brother." He spared the man a disdainful glance as he lay me on the table. The man looked like he was going to argue, but a hard look from Brom made him close his mouth._

_It seemed that even at seven I had a serious lack of spiritual purity, for my wounds became infected within two days, and for three months I would lay in fever, chasing dark dreams on the edge of death._

_I was told that I howled and raged at the pain. That I writhed when they removed the iron from my skin. I was told that they tied me to the table when I they were tired of pinning me down._

_I was told that after my fifth week I had lashed out and broken my bonds._

_When they returned they found the body of one of the brothers, his skull crushed by a heavy cross._

_I saw death many times on that table, and I was tempted. I saw the door and I almost reached for the handle. I saw the black river full of lost souls and broken dreams that one must cross for the afterlife._

_My hate kept me alive. The promise of pain to my enemies crushed mine underfoot. I learned that Hate will keep you alive where Love fails._

_And then it ended. My wounds were still red, and they continued to bleed, but I had strength. I could stand. _

_But something else had been taken. Whatever it was, it had been taken so completely that I forgot what it was._

_The priests were sure that I had the devil inside me. They did not understand that I _was _the devil._

_I made no attempts to persuade them otherwise, as I asked them:_

"_Tell me, brother, Is revenge a science, or an art?_

* * *

"You're joking, right?" Dan asked, unsure if this was an elaborate prank devised by his father.

"Let me see my son!" Dan's question was answered by a roar outside the door. He had never see his father so angry.

The door flew open as the eldest Potter stalked in, almost glowing in anger.

"Who the hell put my son's name in the Goblet!"

"Surely you can tell us that, Senior Auror." Moody growled back, "Your men were the ones guarding the bloody thing!"

"And they say that nothing happened! What do you think the first thing I did was?" He turned to Crouch Senior. "The rules say that there can't be another champion, right?"

"I'm afraid that there is nothing against there being a fourth champion, and that Mr Potter must compete."

"Nothing wrong with a little bit of a challenge though, is there?" Ludo Bagman spoke airily "Brighten up a little!" The man turned to Daniel, seemingly not aware of the glare the young man was giving him. "With such a young competitor, this will be the stuff of legends! Why, it reminds me of when I was in Brazil at the World Cup, and I met the Irish fellow who-"

He didn't say another word as James Potter's fist crashed into his nose, sending him flying backwards into the wall.

"Ludo. I do not believe that this is the time for your reminiscences." Crouch remarked. The man was pale with a thin moustache, hard faced and stern looking. His voice was chipped and professional. Dan knew a little muggle history from his mother, and found himself connecting the face to '_heil Hitler!'._

"Was that necessary, James?" The Headmaster asked, looking at Dan's father.

"Yes."

"Just because your son was stupid enough to get himself into this-" Snape began.

"Snivellous. I have already punched a person in this meeting. Are you wishing to double that number?" Dan smiled as Snape stopped talking almost as quickly as he started.

Snape growled something inaudible but remained silent. Dan and James glared at him.

"There is still the matter of the tournament being unfair." Karkaroff had rejoined the conversation. "It matters not if he put his own name in the Goblet or not, the fact remains that Hogwarts still has two champions, and it is far from reasonable for one school to have the same amount of champions as the other two combined." He looked around. "Something must be done in the spirit of fairness."

"What do you suggest, Igor?"

"Relight the Goblet!" The man had a smug air that Dan had seen around Snape. "That is ideal, as we can all have two champions!"

"That would not be possible." Crouch frowned as he spoke. The Goblet cannot be lit until next year."

"That is correct." Dumbledore nodded his head. "The Goblet will remain unlit until the tournament is over."

"Then light it forcibly!" Karkaroff exploded.

"Even after you became a death eater, you still surprise me with your idiocy." Moody growled, his spinning magical eye focused on the man. "The Goblet of Fire cannot be relit. You can try, but you'll end up killing all the competitors in the progress." He grinned at Karkaroff. "I wonder what would happen if the papers found out you had killed your quidditch star, along with the daughter of the French Minister?"

Dan didn't know that Fleur was the Daughter of the French minister, but he'd never really paid attention to politics, preferring to discuss quidditch with Seamus.

"What do you mean, Moody?" Karkaroff spluttered.

"Once the tournament has begun, you are magically bound to compete. Relighting it would make it assume that a new tournament had begun."

"So what?"

"How stupid are you?" Moody frowned at him. "If another tournament begins, then the Goblet will assume that none of the competitors went through with the tasks, and they'll have violated their oaths." The grizzled Auror bared his teeth. "I've heard that the stripping of one's magic is so consuming that people often die after it happens."

"Does it really matter?" Dan spoke up, and every head turned to him. They had forgotten he was there. "I doubt I'm going to win anyway, so why are you making such a fuss?"

"You wouldn't understand, little-"

"Shut up, Karkaroff." It was pretty rude, but Dan wasn't feeling great, if he was honest with himself. "You guys can sort this out, but I need some rest."

And with that, he walked out the door, leaving only silence behind him.

* * *

_It was a year ago. I was thirteen, the hardships I'd gone through made me look older. I did not care what age I appeared, but my employer told me that I needed to lead this band of mercenaries, and they would not obey a child._

_That was good. Because I was not a child._

_We were heading into the Lich marshes. The marshes were not a safe place. They were full of thick mist, and swamps that could suck a man whole in an instant. Magic was fickle and failed to work more than it did successfully in this place. My team was armed with non-magical weapons just in case. Unfortunately every team had a weak link._

"_Why are we followin' a bleeding child?" The man named Crow asked. "I got better things to do than follow someone who hasn't even finished school!"_

"_And why is that?" I asked, my voice calm. Even at that time, my reputation was well known, although they still looked down on me when they saw me in person. I stopped, and the other eight stopped with me, watching the confrontation._

"_Because I'm sure that any one of us has more expertise than a little brat!" he spat, glaring at me._

"_Is that so?" My tone is light. I've dealt with this before."Tell me, Crow, how old are you?"_

"_Thirty two." Crow growled as a reply._

"_And when did you first kill?" I ask, my tone flippant._

"_'Round twenty." he replies, unsure of where I am going with this._

"_Really?" I ask, and my voice becomes cold, colder than an arctic snowstorm. "I killed my first man when I was seven, Crow. He was a priest, and I never got to know his name. I kiled him with the thing he believed in the most, cracked his head open with a cross until his skull broke and his brain was a paste." I took a breath. "I learned dark Arts at eight, cast all three unforgivables when people my age haven't even gotten a kid's broom."_

"_I preformed blood rituals at nine, lived with vampires, and killed a sixty foot basilisk. I have walked a field of corpses when other children have yet to go to school. I have piled the skulls of my enemies when children my age struggle to write correctly. My hands were stained with more blood at twelve than yours at thirty. Do you really think I'll be frightened by you? By a simple mercenary? You are nothing."_

_I killed him then. Stuck him with my knife. I didn't need to, but I didn't want to take the risk of being butchered in my sleep. He choked on his own blood, staring at me with those horror-struck eyes until they dimmed as his life left him. I looked around at the shocked faces around me._

_"Is there anyone else?"_

_Silence greeted me._

_Good._

_We walked for hours, not risking the use of any magic in this strange place. The aim of the assignment was to retrieve a man who had ran to the Lich Marshes to escape those after him after retrieving some information that our employer needed. The employer gave little more information then that, but I have done many jobs without knowing what I'm truly getting into. I can improvise when the occasion calls for it._

_After a long time, we saw a set of cages overhanging the road. The cages were a means of execution for the primitive tribes that lived here, and any caught would be locked in them and left to die a slow and painful death: either eaten alive by the birds and other creatures that resided here, or starving to death in that tiny space._

_The men parted to let me up close. There were four cages. Two held dead men, extremely dead men. Their legs dangled from the bars, crows had pecked them to the bone. Flies flew thick around them like a second skin, black and buzzing. One of them was pretty unresponsive, and when the men poked him with their swords, he simply fell over and died. _

_The last man didn't seem too cheerful. In fact, he was shouting obscenities at us. I ignore him, and pull out a book to read. It is an old one, on the topic of necromancy, which I have yet to experiment in. The book was bound by leather, and written in old Hieroglyphics. _

"_What are you doing boy? Looking for lewd pictures in that stolen book?" He sat crouched up in his cage, his feet all bleeding and raw. He was old, maybe fifty or sixty, all grey-black hair and angry eyes. "Shouldn't you be in school boy? Learning how to read? The only use for that book for you is fuel for the fire!"_

"_We could start a slow fire? It'd take longer for him to burn." That came from the bounty hunter who introduced himself as The Spaniard. He knew the old man was just trying to rile us up, and he didn't care for it. A few chuckles came from that, but I lifted my hand to stop them._

"_It would be a shame to burn this, would it not?" I asked, stepping closer to the man. "After all, 'Necromancies of Anubis' is a rare book, especially one of the originals. Is that not true, father Brom?"_

"_You know me?" He asked._

"_Of course, Father Brom, are you going to heal me? Heal my soul? Get the demon out of me?"_

"_H-Har..." He was blubbering now, unable to get the words out. It was disgusting, and made me feel as if I'd bitten into something rotten._

"_Harry. The boy you thought had a devil inside him. At your service." I did a little bow._

_There was a deathly silence then. The chirps on insects and calls of birds had stopped. I drew my sword, and held my knife in my other hand. The rain began to fall in thick, heavy sheets that ploughed the earth and threw it around. The misty gloom that had gathered around the marsh condensed and moved towards us._

"_Boy! You have to run!" Father Brom held onto the bars of his cage, white-knuckled, eyes wide as he stared into the distance._

_And through the fog, through the rain, through the thick marsh that would swallow men whole, we saw them coming. We saw their lights. Pale lights that the dead burn in deep pools where men aren't meant to see them. Lights that would promise whatever a man could want, and would set you chasing them, hunting for answers but only finding Hunger, Fear, and Death._

"_Run Boy! Run!" Brom was shrieking once more, rattling the bars of the cage. I'd never liked holy men. At times they were far too imperious, at others sickeningly self-sacrificing._

_So I stood my ground._

* * *

_The dead came on through the rain._

_They were the ghosts of the bog-dead, of the drowned, and the men whose corpses who had been left to the mire. I saw one of my companions, by the name of Kent, flounder as he ran blind into the marsh. Others had the sense to stay to the road, clutching weapons._

_Father Brom began to pray, as though his words were a shield. "Our Father who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name..."_

_The first of the dead reached the road. He had a glow about him like moonlight, a light more sinister than any darkness, a light that could never warm you. His body was rotten, and I could see maggots eating through his dead cheek._

_Nobody stood with me. Some turned and ran. Others looked like the blood had left them. One was screaming like a child. Even the tall Nigerian by the name of Nwoye took a few steps back, looking shocked._

_I opened my arms to the rain, feeling it beat upon me. I wasn't old, yet it still shook up memories inside me, memories of standing at the top of the church tower, daring the lightning to hit me._

"_Our Father, who art in heaven." Father Brom was blabbering now, as if his words would magic him away from this as if it were a nightmare._

_I kept my arms wide, facing the rain. I felt it flow down my face and smoothen my messy hair._

"_My father isn't in heaven, Father Brom." I said, not looking at him. "And he won't be going there anyway."_

_The dead man was six metres away._

_Five._

_Four._

"_What have you got?" I asked._

_And it showed me._

_And I showed it._

_There's a reason that I'm going to win. It's because I understand the game. I've understood it since I was held by steel and shadows back at Tom's place._

"_Hell." The dead man replied. "I've got Hell."_

_And he flowed into me, cold as death, edged like a razor._

_I felt my mouth curl into a smile. I couldn't feel myself laughing, but I could hear it._

"_What have you got, dead thing?" My smile was that of a monster, not a smile that any boy should be able to recreate._

It is a game. I will play my pieces.

_I felt him go cold, almost as cold as me. I saw his death. I saw his despair. I saw his hunger._

_I expected more, but he was only dead._

_I showed him my hate. I showed him my despair. I showed him my loathing. _

_I showed him my demons. I let him see those things._

_He turned and ran, and a followed, laughing._

* * *

Luna sat with the wrackspurt-boy in the come-and-go room. He was in a chair, meditating. In his hand he held a book on Alchemy, but he wasn't reading it.

"You're trapped." She said. "Trapped by your experinces."

"We're all in our private traps." He replied, smiling at her. "Clamped in them, and none of us can ever get out."

"Some of us step willingly into those traps." She said, and she swore his eyes flashed green for a second.

"I was born in mine. I don't mind it anymore."

"Oh but you should. You should mind."

The next sentence was spoken so quietly that she almost missed it.

"I do, but I say I don't."

**What do you think? Tell me anything, all feedback is welcome.**

**Yours,**

**WhereTheWindTakesMe**


End file.
